Breakdown
by BoomerCat
Summary: Set in season 6. Jonas Quinn wonders if he'll ever fit in.
1. Chapter 1

**Breakdown**

_Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but just wait until I win the lottery!_

_Blink and miss 'em spoilers for The First Ones, Meridian and Descent_

_A/N: Thanks to Lyn who leapt into the breach when I said I needed a beta for (gulp) a Jonas fic. Also to Grant who tried, and Longstreet Pete who shot me down and made the story stronger. A special thanks to my pod-buddy Luke, the best non-Stargate-fan sounding board around, and Mariel who kept stopping by my desk for story updates and popcorn._

Jonas Quinn tagged wearily behind his teammates on SG1, headed for a post mission physical and debriefing session. His sharp eyes noticed the twitch in Colonel O'Neill's shoulder a split second before the man's head turned. It was enough time for Jonas to straighten up and plaster an attentive look on his face, but as usual, the Colonel didn't notice as he said something to Major Carter.

Jonas sighed inwardly. He'd given up his hope of gaining the man's acceptance, and settled for not being summarily ejected from SG1 and Stargate Command. He worked assiduously to insure that that disaster never happened. Should he be rejected here, he had no place to go, having defected to Earth from his home world, Langara. To be sent back there would be tantamount to a death sentence, as his own government had branded him a traitor.

The people here had shown no inclination to send him back, but in his own mind, the threat still loomed, and it governed all of his actions. He pushed himself to be accommodating. He tried to be open and friendly, showing no offense at the numerous slights and outright dislike many people here displayed. He knew the general feeling was that he had been responsible for the demise of one of this world's most honored scientists. The worst of it was, they were right. It was his act of cowardice that had ultimately resulted in Daniel Jackson's death.

He had initially been so overwhelmed by the shattering of his self-image as an honorable man, that he stood by when his government had turned its back on reality and in a massive cover-up blamed Dr. Jackson for the near nuclear disaster. It was only when Col. O'Neill had tracked him down and called him a coward to his face, that he had dredged up the courage to do what he should have done in the first place.

Though he doubted anyone on Earth or Langara fully understood his actions, he had stolen as much of the naquadria as he could, knowing it he was setting back Kelowna's weapons program by several years. He could only hope that the other nations of his world would not be able to capitalize on his act. He had used his position in the government to travel through the stargate and turn the naquadria over to the Tau'ri of Earth, whom he prayed would put it to a better, nobler use than a bomb.

His expectation had been that he would return immediately home and face the consequences of his deed. Kelowna still used public hanging as the punishment for treason. He had been fairly astonished when General Hammond had refused to allow him to return through the gate, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would not allow Jonas to be punished for doing what was clearly the right thing.

The generosity of spirit had floored him and it had actually taken him quite a while to accept that he even deserved to live. The only way he had been able to justify it was by seizing on the idea of seeing to it that the people of his new adopted home did not lose the wisdom and expertise that Dr. Jackson had provided them.

He threw his rather formidable intellect into reading and understanding all of Dr. Jackson's work. He couldn't replace the man. That was a foregone conclusion from the beginning. But he could and would replace the knowledge. It was the only way he could atone for his sins.

It wasn't all without rewards, of course. He had seen and experienced things that he could barely have imagined before his defection. Wonderful new worlds, and the most amazing people, not all of whom were human.

And he had been given access to a level of technology unheard of on Kelowna. Things that the people of this world took for granted were amazing to him. On his home world, his entire life had been geared to the needs of the state. When early testing showed that he had high intelligence and a natural gift for learning, he had been taken from his family and placed in a state school. He had been taught how to harness his gift for the good of the state. He knew everything there was to know about the Naquadria Project, and how to navigate the political waters of high government, but little about anything else, as it was deemed unnecessary.

Here, he had assumed that it would be the same and he harnessed his ability to understanding the Goa'uld and Replicators. It had come as a shock to him when he discovered that he was allowed to study other things and that he did not have to justify how his new knowledge would benefit this world.

He thought of his recent foray into Earth's flora and fauna. Coming from a world where war was a constant threat, and every plant and animal was judged for its ability to sustain human life, and ruthlessly eradicated if it failed to make the grade, Jonas had been astonished when he stumbled over a Humane Society site on the internet. He'd spent several hours in mute wonder as he discovered his adopted world saved entire species of animals for no other reason than because they could.

It had been a revelation to him, and he ached with the desire to visit a repository called a zoo. He knew it wasn't possible, as he was not allowed outside. He sighed. He'd seen more of alien worlds than he had of Earth. But he hoped that someday he would be allowed 'up top'. Still, he felt guilty at the time he had wasted. He didn't mention his desire. Though he had been told several times that he could study whatever he wanted, he still had an underlying fear of having it all ripped away.

In the meantime, he still had access to the food of this world, another wonder. Because of the continual state of war on Langara, starvation was a reality that not even the elite could always avoid. Jonas could remember a time when his school did not receive rations for two months. What food there was had to be earned by scholastic achievement. Despite his intelligence, there had been many nights that he had gone to bed hungry. Even as an advisor to the First Minister, Jonas was not guaranteed a full belly. In fact, he was expected to set an example for others less fortunate.

Even when food was plentiful, it was bland fare. Kelowna's government had co-opted all of the country's farmland long before Jonas had been born, and the crops planted were chosen for their nutritional value and high yield rather than any consideration of taste. Fresh, unprocessed food was rarely available and far too expensive even on his salary. Besides, food right out of the ground had seemed vaguely unhygienic to Jonas. He had grown up assuming all food was the same, and he never wasted much thought on it.

But then he had come to Earth, where the choices were virtually unlimited. His first meal on his adopted planet had been disconcerting to say the least. He had been shocked to find more than one food item on the plate presented to him, including a portion of animal protein, something he had only tasted a few times before in his entire life.

When some five hours later his keepers announced it was time for another meal, he'd been very confused, as he had assumed with the animal protein earlier, he would not eat again until the next day. The tray they left included another portion of animal protein, this time something called chicken. He cleaned his plate, as it was a sin to waste food. But in the two meals, he had eaten more food than he had in two days at home, and he spent his first night in a great deal of discomfort.

After that, it had taken him some time to bring himself to eat more than one food at a time. The closest thing he had found to the food of his home world was a breakfast cereal called oatmeal. For several days, it was all he would eat. Dr. Frasier took him in hand very quickly explaining that his metabolism was not geared to the foods of Earth, and that he had to eat a variety if he wanted to remain healthy.

From the first days of his time at Stargate Command, he had been subjected to batteries of tests. Dr. Frasier made a point of using the time in the infirmary to introduce Jonas to new foods, teaching him to peel oranges and bananas, keeping him from eating grape stems and apple seeds.

When the test results came in, the doctor had suggested that Jonas eat several small meals throughout the day rather than three larger meals, and had prescribed an herbal tea to help adjust his metabolism. It had taken time, but eventually, Jonas began to embrace the variety of food available, and was able to face and enjoy complex foods and larger meals.

Trudging down a long hallway behind his team, Jonas was already thinking in terms of getting some lunch. As he trailed into the infirmary behind Teal'c, his eyes widened in mild surprise at the splashes of color throughout the otherwise drab suite of rooms. Ahead of him, Major Carter stopped and said in a tone of disappointment, "Aw, did we miss it again?"

Curious, Jonas asked, "Miss what?"

Teal'c inclined his head. "I believe Major Carter is referring to an Earth celebration called Valentine's Day."

Jonas thought for a moment then nodded, "A holiday in honor of a priest from the third century who was put to death for performing secret marriages. A day to celebrate romantic love." He looked around at the balloons and flowers adorning the bedside tables of most of the infirmary's patients. "You celebrate love with balloons?"

Sam Carter put on the patient look she wore whenever Jonas asked what she considered an odd question. "Well, yes and no. Valentine's Day is a day for lovers, but also for friendship. It's a day just to celebrate love in all its forms."

From his seat where he was having his blood pressure taken, Col. O'Neill said dryly, "Don't let her kid you, Jonas. It's a day when every female on this base keeps score of how many flowers and pounds of chocolate every other female gets."

"Sir!" Carter cried in scandalized shock.

With a near smirk, O'Neill replied. "I'll prove it to you." He looked around, and called over a pretty nurse. "Lt. Ortiz, what did Doctor Frasier get for Valentine's Day?"

"She only got a dozen yellow roses from Cassie, but she got a two pound box of Godiva from somebody she won't name." The nurse responded quickly, unaware of the trap.

O'Neill said nothing, but just raised his eyebrow in Major Carter's direction.

Sam rolled her eyes and turned to Jonas. "Don't listen to him, Jonas. Valentine's Day is a day to show friendship and love by giving cards and gifts of candy and flowers."

From his position on an examining table, Teal'c intoned with delicate distaste, "It is a day when the commissary covers all desserts with pink frosting."

"Yeah. Now, see, I just don't get that." O'Neill seized on the comment. "Pink is just unnatural."

Janet Fraiser came striding across the room, clipboard in hand. With a twinkle in her eye, she said for Sam and Jonas' benefit, "This from a man who'll drink a gallon of green beer on St. Patrick's Day."

O'Neill's indignant 'hey!' was drowned out by Sam's chuckle. Jonas didn't quite get the joke, but could tell one had been made, so he smiled. If he got a chance later, he thought he'd take a moment to research the meaning of colors in Earth's foods.

Janet looked around at the four teammates. "Any complaints? Cuts? Bruises? Alien possessions?"

Jonas joined the rest of the team in shaking his head. O'Neill answered for them all. "Naw, Doc, no complaints. Unless you want to count boredom. Oh, and six days of sitting on our keisters, while the natives hemmed and hawed. Did I mention boredom?"

That caught Jonas off guard, but he carefully schooled his look not to betray his surprise. He had found the culture a fascinating mix of ancient Celtic with Hindu influences. The people had been gentle and kind, and more than willing to share their history with him, even though they had eventually turned down the offer of a trade agreement.

"Well, if that's all you suffered, Colonel, I'd say the mission was a success." Making a few notes on her clipboard, Dr. Frasier continued, "Once we get our blood samples, you can all leave."

The woman turned and strode away, her high heels clicking as she walked. Jonas heard O'Neill muttering saying she sold their blood on the internet, but he was fairly confident that the Colonel was not sincere, so he ignored him.

Within a few minutes, a nurse had taken his blood, and Jonas got up to head for his quarters. "Hey," Col. O'Neill called out to him. "Debrief in twenty minutes, don't be late."

Jonas flashed the man a smile, "No, sir, I won't."

As he walked down the hallway, he heard a rumbling comment greeted by laughter, no doubt at his expense. He sighed, wondering if there would ever come a point when Col. O'Neill noticed that he was never late. In the few months that he had been on Earth, it had become increasingly apparent that although he looked like the average Earth-human, he was really as different as Teal'c was with his Goa'uld incubation pouch. One of the differences that Jonas took for granted was his internal clock. He just always knew what time it was.

He decided to drop off his recorder and journal at his office before heading to his quarters and a hot shower, and was surprised and intrigued to find several items on his desk that had not been there when he left. In addition to some pieces of what they called 'mail', there were three boxes in a shape that he recognized as the human abstraction of a heart.

Not totally certain of what to expect, he took the smallest of the three boxes, and after careful inspection, opened it. His eyebrows went up when he saw the five small rounded brown lumps. One whiff and he knew it was chocolate candy. It didn't take long for his mind to make the connection with the Valentine's Day that they had been talking about in the infirmary.

With a slight frown he looked for any marking that would indicate who had given him the treat. He knew it couldn't be romantic love the giver had in mind, but he wasn't sure how strong a friendship had to be to warrant a gift. The box was marked "Palmer", but the only Palmer he knew was Major Palmer of SG14, and the man had never shown any desire to be his friend.

Knowing he had no time to puzzle it out, he put the box down on his desk and as an afterthought, picked out one of the candies and popped it in his mouth. He almost spat it out again when his tongue immediately began to tingle. As he headed for his quarters, he frowned thoughtfully, but continued to chew and swallow the candy, wondering if this was another practical joke like the time someone had put Habenero hot sauce on his stew.

Jonas had decided not to eat anymore of the candy by the time he had reached the cross-corridor outside his quarters. He knew that some of the food on this world, like the hot sauce, was an acquired taste. He found he had no desire to acquire any taste for the strange feeling in his mouth and throat.

He started down the corridor, when suddenly he gasped, or tried to… Something was blocking the air. Jonas tried swallowing, feeling the air turn solid around him. The first tingling of panic seemed to constrict his throat all that much more. As he struggled to get his lungs to pull in the air, his eyes darted around looking for one of the ever-present intercoms. He spied one several feet away, but his panic built when he tried to take a step toward it and his legs turned to rubber beneath him.

With his vision starting to gray out, he tried to force his legs to cooperate. In his agitation, he saw the phone as his only hope for help, not even considering that he could no longer make any sound. When someone placed a hand on his shoulder, he tried desperately to swat it away, his only waning thought to reach the phone. His knees buckled and he crashed to the concrete. He would have cried out in his fear, but the tyranny of his closed throat left him mute.

A face swam into his view, someone saying something he couldn't hear over the rushing of his blood in his ears. He reached up clawing at his throat desperate for some relief, but the hands were back trying to force his down. With no air, he fell quickly into the darkness, the terror following him down. Eventually his hands and body stilled.


	2. Chapter 2

In the General's briefing room overlooking the gate room, Colonel Jack O'Neill sat alternately playing with his pencil and fiddling with his watch. He stilled as he watched the second hand of his watch count down the seconds. When it reached twelve, he turned to his second-in-command. "Carter?"

Sam looked her boss in the eye. "Yes, sir?"

"He's late. I thought you told me he's never late."

Sam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Sir, he's not late. He's got another… twenty-three seconds to be on time."

O'Neill raised an eyebrow, but kept his peace, instead mouthing a silent countdown.

Sam covered a smile. She knew Jack O'Neill was beginning to like their Kelownan teammate, despite his sometimes annoying over-eagerness. Jonas was hard not to like. He was open and friendly and tolerant, and it didn't hurt that he was as smart as a whip. O'Neill would never admit it, but Sam knew the man preferred to work with intelligent people.

"Aha! Now he's late!" O'Neill crowed triumphantly as his watch ticked over the twelve again.

"O'Neill, is it not true that the debriefing can not begin until General Hammond has completed his telephone call?" Teal'c intoned serenely.

"What's that got to do with it?" The silver-haired Colonel frowned.

"If Jonas Quinn arrives before General Hammond is prepared to begin, then he is not late." Sam grinned. Teal'c had a way of stating things as if they were immutable fact.

Jack was not deterred. "Well, maybe, just maybe, I wanted to have a pre-debriefing debriefing. Did that ever occur to you?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "No, it did not."

"See? He's late!"

"O'Neill, since joining SG1, I have attended four hundred and thirty-six debriefings. At no time have you ever expressed a desire to engage in a pre-debriefing. Why do you feel the need to do so now?"

O'Neill sat blinking. After several moments, he asked, "You've kept count?"

The tall Jaffa inclined his head in agreement. Sam could see the glimmer of a smile on his face. Somewhat nonplussed, O'Neill grumbled, "That's not the point."

Sam looked over her commander's shoulder, and seeing General Hammond finish his phone call and stand up at his desk, she sat up straighter, bringing herself to a state of readiness. The balding head of Stargate Command entered the debriefing room from his adjoining office, and looked over his flagship team. "Where's Mr. Quinn?"

"He's late, sir." O'Neill stated firmly.

Hammond frowned slightly. Sam was not sure if it was because the Kelownan was late, or because the general didn't know quite how to take Col. O'Neill's adamant statement. The older man glanced at the clock on the wall, and sat in his seat at the head of the table. "Well, we'll just have to start without him. I have a call coming in from the Joint Chiefs in half an hour. Now, Colonel, did you find anything of interest?"

"No sir. Nice folks, pretty planet, but nothing worth noting."

Sam squirmed slightly. Apparently the colonel was going to take advantage of Jonas' absence to get in his side of the story first. "Well, I wouldn't say that, sir. Jonas found those texts that mention the Ancients in their library."

"Yes, but Carter, that's all they do. They 'mention' the Ancients." Here the Colonel held up his fingers in bracketing motions to highlight the word mention. "No treasure maps, no diagrams for phazers, just 'mentions' of the Ancients."

Sam started to shake her head, but was interrupted when the intercom phone at the General's hand buzzed. Hammond held up a hand to forestall comment and picked up the receiver. "Hammond. Yes, Doctor."

Sam gathered her thoughts while waiting for the general to complete his call. She felt a faint swirl of annoyance at Jonas for not being there. She had been so busy with her soil and plant sampling that she had only listened to his enthusiastic commentaries with half an ear. It was unfair of him to leave her to defend his theories.

She noticed that Hammond was becoming increasingly concerned by whatever he was being told by the doctor on the phone. As over half the staff of Stargate Command had the title of doctor, herself included, Sam had no way to tell who the 'doctor' in question was.

"What's the prognosis, Doctor?" General Hammond asked. All three teammates suddenly stiffened. Hammond rarely gave anything away but his demeanor indicated the news was not good. Sam tried to remember who she had seen in the beds in the infirmary.

General Hammond hung up the phone and sat silently staring at the table. Sam felt her stomach tighten. O'Neill asked quietly, "Sir, what's wrong?"

Hammond looked up, the compassion in his eyes telegraphing his words. "We'll finish the debrief later. Mr. Quinn is in the infirmary."

Sam felt her eyebrows go up. Although she found Jonas exasperating, she wouldn't want to see him harmed. They had only lost Daniel a few months ago. At the time she has sworn she would never let another person into her life. When Jonas had first shown up, she had kept to her oath, pushing him away at every opportunity, even after he had officially become a member of the team. But it wasn't in her nature to kick puppies, and eventually, her defenses had eroded, and she, like Col. O'Neill, was beginning to accept the Kelownan.

She knew it was bad from the look in Hammond's eyes, and she found herself jumping to her feet. As she looked at the general for permission to leave, she was stung that O'Neill and Teal'c were just sitting there. When the general nodded his dismissal, she left at a run, but not before she heard O'Neill's flippant, "What did he do, trip over that big brain of his?"

She ran through the halls, angry at the colonel for his callousness, angry at herself for letting herself care, and angry at Jonas for not keeping himself safe. When she reached the infirmary, she looked around, and not immediately seeing Jonas, headed for Dr. Fraiser's office. Seeing the woman clad in surgical scrubs, Sam swallowed hard. "Janet? What happened?"

The doctor looked up, and with a worried frown, responded. "He's in recovery, Sam. I had to perform an emergency tracheotomy."

"A tracheotomy? Why? What happened?" Sam jumped startled at O'Neill's voice right behind her. She glanced around at the colonel surprised he and Teal'c had come so quickly.

A glance passed between the two officers, a silent apology given and accepted as the petite doctor, sighed. "Jonas went into anaphylactic shock. I'm not sure what triggered it, he's never shown any sensitivity before."

"Ana what, now?" O'Neill asked.

"Anaphylactic shock. An extreme allergic reaction." Sam felt a sudden concern for the Kelownan as Dr. Frasier explained. Several years ago, Dr. Warner had taken her aside and explained the symptoms and dangers of anaphylactic shock, as a precaution with Daniel's allergies.

"Soooo, what are we talking here? Hives?" Col. O'Neill asked somewhat hopefully.

Janet destroyed that hope with her next harsh statement. "No sir, we're talking complete respiratory arrest, and accompanying tachycardia. If Doctor Lee had not found him when he did, Jonas would most likely be dead now."

"Bill Lee?" Sam asked slightly surprised.

"Yes. Fortunately he recognized the symptoms and had his EpiPen on him. He used it as soon as he realized what was happening. That relieved the constriction in Jonas' throat just enough for CPR until we were able to get him into surgery."

Sam frowned. She could see that Col. O'Neill was struggling to get a good grasp on the situation, and she would have explained, but Teal'c spoke first. "Forgive me, Dr. Frasier, but I do not understand. Did not Daniel Jackson suffer from allergic reactions? Is this not the same?"

"No, Teal'c. Daniel suffered from allergies, true, but he never had an episode of anaphylaxis. Jonas came into contact with something that caused his throat to swell entirely shut. He couldn't breathe. Dr. Lee has had similar episodes in the past, so he carries a special injector with a drug called epinephrine that eases the swelling."

"Then did not this drug relieve the problem?"

"It provided temporary relief so that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation could be performed. When they brought him in, we took him into surgery, and I made an incision into his throat so that we could place a tube to allow him to breathe."

"For how long will this tube be necessary?"

"At least the next four hours. We're treating him with bronchodilators and corticosteroids, but he's not responding as well as I'd like. Still, he's young and strong, and we caught it early enough that there's unlikely to be any brain damage. If he starts responding within the next few hours, I don't see any bar to a full recovery."

"So what caused it?" O'Neill asked, subdued.

"Well, it could be anything, but from the way his tongue has swollen, I'd say it's most likely something he ingested. Did he eat anything unusual on P3X-278?"

Sam shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We had a meal with the ruling council, but that was at least ten hours ago. This morning, we had no time for anything more than ration bars."

"Well, it's unlikely for a reaction this severe to be delayed. But still, I'll want you to write down everything you can remember seeing him eating or drinking in the last twenty-four hours."

Sam nodded, relieved to be doing something. "I'll get right on it."

"I will look in Jonas Quinn's quarters for anything he may have eaten there."

"Thank you, Teal'c." Dr. Frasier smiled.

"Why now?" O'Neill frowned. "The guy had eaten everything and anything anybody has given him up to and including slugs. Why hasn't he had this… annette funicello thing before?"

Sam had to smile at the colonel's reference. One of the men on SG7 had introduced Jonas to escargot, much to the colonel's disgust, and the Kelownan had eaten them with as much relish as he did everything else.

Janet shook her head. "When Jonas first came here, we monitored him very closely. He showed no sign of any type of allergic reactions to anything he was exposed to. That seemed a miracle in itself given the environment on Kelowna. Like you say, Colonel, he's had a very wide exposure to our foods and other products. Until we identify the trigger it would be impossible to say why he hasn't had any previous incidents."

"Janet, can I see him?" Sam asked.

The doctor flashed a smile, and placed her hand on Sam's elbow, gently guiding her to the infirmary door. "Give us some time to get him settled, then you can come keep him company. In the meantime, you'll do him more good if you get me that list."

Sam nodded. "I'll get right on it."


	3. Chapter 3

"Jonas?"

Jonas considered just not opening his eyes. He had been in the infirmary for several hours, and he was tired and sore. Although Doctor Frasier had said she wanted him to stay for at least twenty-four hours for 'observation', Jonas intended to be up and out in half of that, despite the overwhelming weariness he felt. There were several translations that needed to be done, and he feared someone else might complete them in his absence.

He felt a light touch on his arm and with a sigh, gave in and opened his eyes. Sam Carter stood there, regarding him with a light grin. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good," Jonas rasped, giving his teammate what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"Pretty good, huh?" Sam said with a cocked eyebrow. "You could have fooled me. You look like you've been stomped on."

"No, actually, I feel okay. I'll be up in a little while."

"Jonas, you almost died. Why don't you just take it easy? Let Lt. Rush take care of you?" Sam said slyly, knowing the Kelownan had taken a shine to the pretty nurse.

"Sam, it's only my throat that was injured. There's nothing wrong with the rest of me." Jonas held up his hand. "See? The swelling is all gone."

Sam shook her head, her brilliant blue eyes creased with compassion. "Jonas, why the hurry?"

Jonas shrugged, knowing any truthful explanation would likely only get him a lecture. Sam stared at him for a long uncomfortable moment before saying reluctantly. "Well, okay. I need to get back to work. I'll see you later, all right?"

"Okay, Sam. Thanks for stopping by," Jonas smiled wanly. He knew from the look on the major's face that he had disappointed her in some unfathomable way. He watched her walk away and with a sigh closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Just a note concerning the length of the various chapters. I know that several of these chapters are very short. I debated posting two chapters at a time, but as I am doing a 'fast' post, i.e. one chapter a day, I decided to just go with one chapter at a time. If anybody truly objects, let me know and I will consider changing my mind. The reason for the second chapter today is because I will not have time to post tomorrow. Thanks for your continued attention!_

Dr. Janet Frasier strode purposefully toward a meeting with General Hammond, carrying the slim manila file folder with white-knuckled intensity. The report she had just received had frightened and infuriated her. She intended to get to the bottom of it and have the perpetrator dealt with quickly and decisively.

In her agitation, she barely knocked on the general's door, before seizing the doorknob and pushing her way in. "General…"

Both General Hammond and his second-in-command, Colonel O'Neill, looked up, surprised at the intrusion. "Doctor?"

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I feel this just can't wait."

"That's okay, Doc, I was just leaving." Col. O'Neill stood up, looking at General Hammond for permission to go.

"Colonel, I think you should hear this too," Janet stated firmly.

Jack O'Neill's eyebrows went up, but his voice was mild when he asked, "Jonas?"

"He's fine, sir. I released him a few hours ago."

"Perhaps you should tell us what this is all about, Doctor," General Hammond said, indicating a chair.

Both Janet and O'Neill sat down, and Janet took a deep breath to steady herself. "Sir, as you know, Teal'c found an open box of candy in Jonas' office. Jonas has confirmed that he had his attack after eating a piece."

Hammond nodded, having seen that report earlier. Col. O'Neill shook his head. "I still don't get that, Doc. I've personally seen him eat a pound of chocolate candy in one sitting. Why did he get sick this time, and not before?"

"Previous exposure doesn't protect a person from an allergic reaction, Colonel. People can live with cats all of their lives and suddenly develop an allergy to cat dander. But that is not what happened here." Janet turned to General Hammond, "Sir, I wanted to identify what had triggered Jonas's attack, so I had an analysis done of that candy. The report just came in. That chocolate was coated in a concentrate of bee venom. As you probably know, bee stings are a common source of allergic reaction, and this concentrate was on the order of five hundred times the strength of what you would get in a single sting. General Hammond, this was a murder attempt."

The room became dead silent as the two officers reacted with shock. General Hammond recovered first. "That's a strong accusation, Doctor. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Doc, maybe someone was just screwing around. I know of at least two occasions when people thought it would be funny to get Jonas to eat weird stuff."

Janet shook her head. "No, sir, this isn't like the caffeine pill in the tea or the Ex-Lax in the brownies, this was a deliberate attempt to kill him."

From the looks of both men's faces, Janet realized they had not heard of the incidents. She briefly wondered what the Colonel had meant, but pressed forward with her report. "General Hammond, there was enough bee venom in that candy to take down a squad of Jaffa. There is no way this was a so-called harmless prank. It was luck pure and simple that Bill Lee was the one to find Jonas."

General Hammond's gaze hardened. "Very well, Doctor, if you believe this was premeditated, then we had better get to the bottom of it. Colonel, get someone to review the security tapes. I want to know who and when. Oh, and Jack, I want a twenty-four hour guard on Mr. Quinn until whoever is responsible is caught."

"Sir, SG1 is on stand down anyway. I'd like for us to take the lead in the investigation." O'Neill said crisply.

"I assumed you would, Colonel." Hammond nodded, then added quietly, "Find this bastard, Jack."

"Yes, sir." With a short nod, O'Neill got up and left.

Hammond stared thoughtfully at the door that his second in command had exited through, then turned his attention to Doctor Frasier. "All right, now tell me how he's really doing."

Janet sighed. "Well, as you know, he's still pushing himself. Still trying to prove he's worthwhile."


	5. Chapter 5

Jack O'Neill strode down the corridor, an angry man. It was one damn thing after another, and SG1 never seemed to catch a break. That one of his people was under attack infuriated the Colonel, even if it was Quinn.

He had allowed the Kelownan onto his team in a moment of weakness when he had been under too much pressure. And although the man had not let them down…yet… Jack still didn't quite trust him. The too quick smile, the apparent wide-eyed openness was all just a reminder that the man had been a politician back on his home world. Jack O'Neill knew what politicians were; lying back-stabbing bastards who'd shake your hand with a smile while they twisted your nuts off.

No, he didn't much like the Kelownan, but he'd be damned if anyone would get away with murdering the man on his watch. He approached the gym and spotted his quarry bracing a punching bag for a member of SG7.

"Teal'c," he barked. The tall Jaffa glanced over, and said something quietly to his sparring partner, and with a slight bow headed toward O'Neill. Jack didn't wait. He strode purposefully away, knowing the Jaffa would follow.

Teal'c caught up to his commander as O'Neill entered the elevator. Seeing the questioning cock of the Jaffa's eyebrow, Jack growled, "We've got a problem."

Teal'c took a measured breath. "Indeed."

To one who didn't know the man, it might have appeared that he was unconcerned, aloof. Jack knew his friend was mentally preparing himself for whatever was to come. Not wanting to explain twice, SG1's commander strode purposely toward the physics lab, where he knew he'd find Major Carter.

Entering the room, he barked, "Carter."

Sam startled, looking up from her computer. "Sir?"

"We've got a problem. Frasier says that Jonas was poisoned with bee stuff. She says it was a murder attempt."

"What?" Sam's eyebrows flew up. "Why? I mean, who'd want to kill Jonas, sir?"

"That's what we're going to find out. I want you to pull the security tapes. I want to know who put that damn candy in his office. I'll be back in a while to help you. T, you're with me."

O'Neill hardly heard the acknowledgement as he was already out the door, Teal'c on his heels. Once again he entered the elevator, punching the button for his next destination hard. As the elevator started moving, he glowered at his Jaffa friend. "Teal'c, were you aware of some Ex-Lax brownies that Jonas was given?"

Teal'c looked over at the human. "I have seen Jonas Quinn eat brownies on several occasions."

"No. These were laced with a laxative. Probably would have made him sick."

"I do not recall him showing any signs of illness, O'Neill."

"What about caffeine in his tea?"

"Did not Doctor Frasier warn that caffeine has a deleterious effect on him? I do not believe he would ingest something harmful intentionally."

"Yeah, that's the whole point." Jack muttered as the elevator door opened. Pushing himself off from the back wall, he headed for Dani… Jonas's office. As always, the door was open, but for once, the lights were off. Jack stopped for a moment looking around as if he expected the Kelownan to suddenly appear.

"I believe Dr. Frasier told Jonas Quinn to rest in his quarters, O'Neill."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place!"

As Jack headed for the elevator once again, Teal'c stated, unperturbed. "I did not know your intention, O'Neill."

In the elevator, Jack leaned again against the wall. "T, whoever did this might try again. Until we can set up around the clock security, I want you with him. Don't let him out of your sight, and for God's sake, don't let him eat any damn candy."

The tall Jaffa gracefully bowed his head. "I will protect him."

"Yeah." O'Neill closed his eyes, drumming his hands on the wall at his back. When the elevator door, opened, he pushed off and strode out.

Reaching the quarters that had been assigned to the Kelownan, Jack hesitated, realizing that in the few months that Jonas had been a member of SG1, he had never before visited the man's quarters. Shaking the thought away, Jack rapped on the door.

When no response was forthcoming, he tried again, calling out, "Jonas? Open the door."

With a sudden unease, Jack glanced at Teal'c who nodded and stood to one side of the doorway. Jack took the other side. Ready for anything, he tried the doorknob, which turned easily in his hand. Quietly, he pushed the door open. He took a quick glance in, and his heart froze at the sight of Jonas propped up in his chair, head slumped forward on his desk. Cursing quietly, he stepped into the room. "Aw, shit."


	6. Chapter 6

Jonas Quinn came awake with a violent move when he felt the brush of fingers at his neck. He flinched away as he became aware of someone standing over him.

"GEEZUS!" Jack O'Neill blurted jumping back from where he had been seeking a throat pulse. "Don't DO that!"

Still not quite awake, Jonas frowned. "Uh, I'm sorry."

"I thought you were dead. You were lying there with your eyes open." O'Neill barked, his own frown ferocious.

"Ah… oh, sorry about that, Colonel. Um, I don't naturally close my eyes when I sleep. I'm trying to train myself to do it, but I guess I just didn't think about it. Uh, did you need something, sir?"

Jack blinked. "You sleep with your eyes open?"

Jonas shrugged, vaguely ashamed. "Yes, sir."

"It would seem a useful habit. You would be less likely to be caught unaware by your enemies, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c commented from his position by the door.

Jonas felt a flush of gratitude, but kept his attention on O'Neill, who waved away the comment as if unimportant. "Dr. Frasier says that candy you ate was doped. She thinks someone might be trying to kill you. Do you have any idea who that would be?"

Jonas' eyebrows climbed. "Kill me? Someone wants to kill me?"

"I'll take that as a no." O'Neill replied dryly. "Well, we're looking into it. Until we have an answer, we're going to set up a twenty-four hour guard rotation on you. Teal'c will stay here with you until I have the guards in place. You get any more little gifts, you don't open them, understand?"

"Yes sir." Jonas smiled to cover his sinking heart. When he had first come to the SGC, he had been assigned a twenty-four hour guard, a series of hard-faced SFs who never spoke or smiled. When the guards had finally been withdrawn, it had felt like being freed from heavy chains.

O'Neill nodded curtly, then turned away. "T, I'll set that rotation right away. Give me ten minutes. Fifteen, tops."

"There is no need to hurry, O'Neill. I will stay with Jonas Quinn for as long as necessary."

"Fifteen minutes, tops," the colonel repeated as he strode out of the room.

Jonas stood there unsure of what to do. "Um, thanks, Teal'c. I appreciate you taking the time to stay with me."

Teal'c inclined his head acknowledging the thanks. "Should you not be resting, Jonas Quinn? Dr. Frasier would be most displeased if she found you out of bed."

Jonas looked at the neatly made bed, then back to his cluttered desk. Although he felt weak with exhaustion, he couldn't quite bring himself to give in to it. Shaking his head, he replied, "No, I'm all right. It's not like I'm running a race. I'm just working on a translation."

Teal'c cocked an expressive eyebrow, saying nothing. Jonas felt himself color, and turned away from the Jaffa. Sitting down at the desk, he took a breath to compose himself then looked back up at the tall man. "Um, can I get you anything? Some tea? A book, maybe?"

The Jaffa loosened his stance infinitesimally. "No, Jonas Quinn. Perhaps I might assist you with your translation?"

Jonas' eyes lit up. "Sure! I'd like that. Let me get you a chair…"

Teal'c held up a hand. "I will get the chair. Do not open the door to anyone else."

Jonas' smile remained until the Jaffa closed the door behind him. He stared at the door for a moment then ran a weary hand through his hair. The room seemed smaller, more like a prison cell than anything else. With a sigh, he turned back to his work.


	7. Chapter 7

Major Samantha Carter checked the load on her P90 before clipping it to the harness on the front of her flak jacket. Glancing up she grinned at Jonas as he entered the gate room. "You ready?"

The Kelownan nodded with a smile, settling his flak jacket with its attached backpack a little more firmly on his shoulders. It was their first mission since Jonas had been hospitalized with anaphylactic shock more than two weeks earlier. Despite the best efforts of SG1 and others on the base, the person or persons responsible for the attack had still not been found.

Jonas had lobbied hard to be allowed to go back to active mission status when Dr. Frasier had given him a clean bill of health, and privately Sam agreed that the Kelownan was probably safer off world with SG1. She had backed him up with the colonel and with General Hammond too.

The truth of the matter was they really couldn't afford to sideline a resource as valuable as Jonas. His quick intelligence, and his rapidly growing ability to translate on the fly was almost on a par with Daniel's, and on a planet like P9Z-994, that might mean the difference between success and failure.

The MALP images of the planet had shown an abundance of Goa'uld architecture in a fairly good state of repair, indicating the place had not been abandoned long. One of the altars near the gate had revealed what appeared to be dried up offerings of flowers and fruits, implying an indigenous population.

Col. O'Neill had initially been in favor of leaving Jonas behind on the pretext that until they had spoken to the natives, they had no idea how dangerous the planet would be. Jonas had argued persuasively that while he was not an actual linguist, he had an ear for language, and if the natives did not speak English, he had a better chance of communicating than any of the rest of the team.

Sam thought Jonas was taking the wrong tack with the colonel, knowing the implication that he, as a relative newcomer, would know more than Earth's premier first contact team would irritate the older man. Before she could intervene though, General Hammond had ended the discussion saying curtly, "Colonel, this mission requires an archeologist or linguist. If you don't feel Mr. Quinn is up to the task, I will assign someone else."

Recognizing the reprimand in the general's comment, O'Neill had backed down. Sam noticed that Jonas was wisely steering clear of the colonel, lining up with both herself and Teal'c between the Kelownan and the grimly silent commander.

The seventh chevron locked on the stargate, and the ancient rings filled with a violent explosion of brilliant matter before settling down to a fluctuating pool of cool blue energy. At Colonel O'Neill's silent signal, the four teammates ventured forth through the wormhole.

As they exited through the other side, the four fell into a defensive position. Sam sensed rather than saw Jonas at her side spinning to cover the team's six. She felt a sense of satisfaction that the Kelownan was able to hold his own.

"All right kids. Let's move out. Teal'c take point. Carter you've got our six. Jonas… just… keep up." O'Neill added as an afterthought.

The team spread out, heading for a large temple structure some two miles distant. Sam waited until her teammates were a good fifty yards ahead before starting out, all senses alert. The caution proved unnecessary as they covered the distance without trouble. If there were people on this planet, they seemed to be nowhere in the immediate vicinity.

At the temple steps, Sam became aware of just how silent things were when Jonas' exclamation of awe echoed loudly off the buildings. "Wow! This is fabulous!"

The Kelownan had already pulled his digital camera from his pack, and started meticulously recording the symbols on one of a pair of large colorfully decorated pillars flanking the temple steps. Sam grinned over at Col. O'Neill who watched the younger man with a bemused expression.

Catching Sam's look, he rolled his eyes heavenward, shaking his head. "All right, Carter, you're with me. We'll set a perimeter watch. Teal'c, keep an eye on wonder boy. Keep him out of trouble."

Sam threw a glance at Jonas to see what he made of the Colonel's crack, but if the Kelownan had heard, he was hiding his reaction, continuing on with his filming. Shaking her head, she followed her commander.

The two Air Force officers cautiously made their way around the block long building. As far as Sam could tell, the area was deserted. Still, as they came to the corner of the structure, O'Neill held up a hand, motioning her to silence. She waited on guard as the older man took a cautious peek around the corner, then a longer look.

Sam frowned as O'Neill's shoulders slumped, and a little groan escaped his lips. She asked quietly, "What is it, sir? What's wrong?"

O'Neill threw her a look of disgust before stepping out. "We were at the back door."

Sam followed her commander's footsteps and came around the corner, gasping at what she saw. "Holy Hannah!"

There was an entire processional of tall pillars leading down from the massive steps of the building to what looked like an alter several hundred yards away. There had to be two hundred of the colorfully marked pillars flanking the wide mall-like corridor, each decorated from top to bottom with the same writing as the two at the back that had Jonas so captivated.

"Okay, so, here's what we're going to do. We're going to go back there and tell him there's absolutely nothing over here," Jack said in his best authoritative voice.

Sam grinned, shaking her head. "Sir, we can't do that."

"Sure we can, Carter. He's got two of those damn things to play with. He sees the rest of this and it might do him a harm."

"A harm, sir?"

"Yes, Carter, a harm." O'Neill replied firmly. "We're only going to be here for a few hours. If Jonas sees all of this, he'll hurt himself trying to get it all on tape."

Sam just stared at her commander, her skepticism plain on her face. O'Neill ignored her for as long as he could before sighing, "Aw, dammit."

Smiling, Sam clicked on her radio. "Jonas, Teal'c…"

"Sam! These pillars are amazing! It tells the story of a meeting between the Goa'uld Tatenen and…

"Jonas, wait. I think you need to come here."

"What? No, Sam, these pillars are important!"

"Trust me on this. You need to come here. Facing the building, go to your left, and bring Teal'c."

"Sam, whatever it is, it can…"

"That's an order, Jonas." O'Neill broke in, a tone of exasperation coloring his voice. "T, drag him if you have to."

Sam couldn't keep the grin off of her face, anticipating Jonas' reaction to the sight of what would be an archeologist's wet dream. The grin faltered for a moment, realizing she wished Daniel was the one rounding the far corner, an indignant look on his face at being herded by Teal'c. But as they approached, and Sam saw Jonas' open curiosity, the smile returned full force.

"Sam? What was it you wanted to… oh." Jonas' reaction was everything Sam could have hoped for. As soon as the Kelownan saw the pillars, he stopped dead in his tracks, a look of pure drop-jawed wonder on his face.

O'Neill let him stand there for a few moments before barking, "Jonas, you have three hours. Carter, you help him out. T, let's go look around. Oh, and Carter, stay out of the temple."

"Yes sir." Sam reached into her pack for her camera as O'Neill and Teal'c headed away, across the front of the temple.

"Sam, three hours isn't going to be enough," Jonas complained quietly as he moved to the closest of the pillars.

"I know, but it will have to do for now. There's a trick to it, Jonas. Don't read, just film. Start at the top, and film it from top to bottom, moving in a clockwise motion. Concentrate on getting clear images, not on what it says."

The Kelownan swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay, that sounds good. You'll take those over there?"

"Sure," Sam responded and headed across the mall to the other side. "Remember, no reading."

When she reached the far side of the mall, Sam set out to record the pillars. As she had instructed Jonas, she pointed the camera at the top, and slowly scrolled down, making sure she was going slow enough to capture the details of the writing. When she finished one swath, she moved to the right before starting again, making sure she overlapped the previous swath slightly.

When Sam was back where she started, she glanced over to see Jonas' progress, and nodded slightly to herself when she saw he was already on his third pillar. She made a point of checking her surroundings, not wanting to become so caught up in the filming that she was caught with her pants down.

Satisfied that there was no threat, Sam turned to the second pillar, and began her slow careful transit. Within the first thirty minutes, she had finished her fifth pillar. She glanced again at her friend across the way, and sighed when she saw he was still on his fourth pillar, and had in fact stopped filming to stare at the writing.

"Jonas!" Sam called sharply. The Kelownan started, then looked over at her. "Film, don't read. You can take all the time you need when we get home."

As if coming out of a trance, Jonas nodded and lifted his camera again. Sam watched him for a few moments then returned to her work.

Throughout the afternoon, Sam worked steadily, but grew increasingly exasperated at her teammate's behavior. She had been thinking of ways to convince O'Neill to stay longer, overnight at least, but Jonas continued to fall further and further behind the pace that she set. By the time she was at her twenty-fifth pillar, Jonas had stopped yet again to stare at the writing on the eighteenth pillar.

When the colonel appeared saying it was time to pack up the picnic, Sam ignored Jonas' pleas to their commander. When he turned to her for support, she just turned away shaking her head.


	8. Chapter 8

He was tired. Tired of smiling. Sick of being amenable. He entered his quarters and in a pique heaved his heavy flak jacket across the room. It flew from his hand and knocked books, papers and an empty tea mug from his desk, scattering the work of days into a random mess on the floor.

Jonas stood blinking, shocked at the violence of his action. He sat down heavily on his bed, staring at the papers on the floor. Running his hand over his face, he had to face the reality that he was angry at himself. His failure on P9Z-994 was entirely his own.

He knew there were time constraints. He knew he had to do the job as efficiently at possible. Yet he had lost his focus over and over again. It was no wonder that Major Carter was disgusted with him. Many more incidents like that and General Hammond himself would toss his butt back through the stargate to Kelowna.

For several more minutes Jonas sat staring at the mess he had made, before slowly getting up and picking things up.


	9. Chapter 9

Driving up the twisting mountain road, Jack O'Neill listened to the soothing CD music, hoping it would give him the calm center he needed for the upcoming confrontation. He felt a niggle of ire as he thought back to the scene five days ago when Carter had stormed into his office demanding in barely civil tones to know what he had said to Jonas.

At the time, O'Neill had been honestly confused. When the preliminary translations of the writing from the pillars on P9Z-whatever had shown promise of a weapons cache, a full survey was ordered. Thinking he was throwing a bone to Jonas, O'Neill had gone to General Hammond and scored the Kelownan a temporary assignment to SG14 to go and translate to his heart's content. When he had told him, Jonas had smiled that irritatingly sunny smile of his and had gone off to play in the dirt with five other archeologists.

Sam's anger had caught him totally off guard. She scathingly explained that when she saw Jonas off, he had remarked that she shouldn't worry as he intended to earn his way back onto SG1. The major had wrongly assumed that O'Neill had told the man he was off the team. Jack had had to throw his rank in her face to get her to calm down.

SG14 and its little covey of science geeks was due back within a few hours, and O'Neill was trying not to get himself worked up. Once Carter understood that Jack had done nothing to deserve her scorn, she had apologized, and the last five days had been downright peaceful. Too peaceful, in fact. It had given him way too much time to reflect on the amount of tension Jonas Quinn had caused on the team.

His first, second and third reactions had been to blame the Kelownan. But then his own essential honesty forced him to evaluate his own actions, and he realized that it was his own unwillingness to bend that had been causing the tension. Jonas did nothing but try hard to fit in, and Jack simply had ignored the man. Even after the Kelownan had risked his life to save his teammates in a sunken mothership, Jack had barely acknowledged him.

Sighing as he pulled into his parking space, O'Neill knew he and Jonas had to have a little talk. The Kelownan's remark to Sam showed that the man had not understood why Jack had gotten him the temporary assignment, and Jack knew for a fact that he had not gotten that Jonas was anything but thrilled at the opportunity. Shaking his head in bemusement, he wondered how a guy so apparently honest and straightforward could be so good at hiding his feelings.

As he made his way past the security checkpoints to his office, O'Neill kept going over in his mind what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it. Carter had told him in no uncertain terms that Jonas found him intimidating. Privately O'Neill liked the idea, but he knew that professionally, he had to establish a better relationship with the man.

Trust was a two-way street. While Jack was slowly coming to accept and trust the Kelownan, he wasn't all that sure that Jonas actually trusted him. The crack at the gate seemed to imply that the man thought Jack was just looking for a reason to kick him off the team.

That hadn't been true since the mothership. In large part, it was because no one better had come along, but the last five days of reflection had revealed an unpleasant truth. Jack was beginning to actually like that 'gee whiz' attitude.

O'Neill entered his office and sat down to a full in-basket. Knowing that SG14 would not be back for at least another four hours, Jack pursed his lips in distaste and started in on another round of the unending paperwork.

"O'Neill." Jack looked up to see Teal'c standing in the doorway.

He smiled a welcome, relieved for any reason to ignore his paperwork. "T. Good morning. Wanna go get some breakfast or something?"

The Jaffa cocked an eyebrow. "Were you not going to speak to Jonas Quinn today?"

"Yep. It's right here on the agenda." Jack made a show of shuffling some paper. "I know there's an agenda here somewhere."

"Do the Tau'ri not have a saying, 'there is no time for the present'?"

Jack blinked puzzling out the big man's words. After a moment, the light dawned. "Like, Teal'c. No time LIKE the present."

"As you say."

Jack stared at his friend, who stared calmly back. Finally, he said, "T, I have absolutely no idea of what you're talking about."

Only the slightest narrowing of his eyes gave away Teal'c's exasperation. "I believe it is better not to put off speaking with Jonas Quinn, O'Neill."

With a puzzled frown, O'Neill responded, "Teal'c, SG14 isn't due back until 1100 hours. I don't think this is the kind of conversation I want to have in the control room over a MALP camera."

The big Jaffa nodded slightly as if something had become suddenly clear. "O'Neill, SG14 returned some time ago. Jonas Quinn is in the infirmary for his post mission check."

"Aw, for cryin' out loud." O'Neill got up and headed out the door, Teal'c like a silent shadow following him.


	10. Chapter 10

Major Luke Palmer grinned tiredly at the pretty nurse, Lt. Ortiz, taking his blood. He was glad to get home. Five days of babysitting a bunch of nerdy scientists had been like babysitting his own kids. Except his own kids obeyed him. And they didn't squabble over every damn chicken scratch they found. And they were cleaner, too.

Well, maybe that was going a bit far. The diarrhea that had cut the trip short by a few hours had taken down half of his men in addition to five out of six of the archeologists. He glanced over at Kelly. Who would have thought that the 98-pound weakling in a bunch of lightweights would be the only one of them not to get sick?

The guy was making up for not being actually ill by hyperventilating at the thought that he might become ill. The rest of them were whining like a touch of the squirts was the end of the world. Palmer was hard put not to let the whole bunch of them know what he really thought of them. Fortunately for them, he was a professional, and he kept his thoughts to himself, and his expression bland.

He looked up at the approach of footsteps, and unconsciously straightened when Colonel O'Neill entered the infirmary, the Jaffa Teal'c a step behind. The man's eyes slid over him and fastened on Jonas Quinn a few beds away. Palmer had heard stories of things that had happened to mission commanders who had not taken what O'Neill considered proper care of the SG1 team members loaned to them.

Palmer wasn't concerned. Yes, the Kelownan had come down with the diarrhea, but he could hardly be blamed for that. And, he'd heard the rumors that O'Neill had only allowed him on the team because the brass were pressuring O'Neill to accept a Russian.

Palmer could believe the rumors. Quinn had done nothing to impress him over the last five days. He wasn't a whiner like the rest, but he didn't have any 'Daniel Jackson Eureka' moments either.

He glanced over at the Kelownan who chose that moment to go dead white, and stumble off the bed in desperate search of a bathroom. He should have expected what happened next.

"Palmer! What the HELL did you do to my geek?" O'Neill was up in his face, murder in his eye.

The major resisted the temptation to swallow hard, and keeping the fear out of his voice replied, "Nothing, sir. They all got sick. Couple of my men, too. We think it may have been a bad batch of MRE's."

O'Neill backed off a step and looked around, seeing the series of pale faces for the first time. Palmer held his breath, but the colonel eventually nodded and rolled his eyes by way of apology. "Sorry." O'Neill muttered.

"Not a problem, sir."

With a wave encompassing the indisposed archeologists, O'Neill asked softly, "So, did they find anything?"

"Other than new ways to aggravate me? No, sir, nothing." Palmer's reply was just has soft, knowing that if the scientists heard him, they'd all leap from their sick beds to screech out their pet theories.

O'Neill looked at him with something akin to sympathy and nodded. He turned away to Quinn who had hobbled out of the bathroom, and Palmer headed out the door to a debriefing with General Hammond.


	11. Chapter 11

Jonas Quinn tried to straighten up as he returned to the infirmary bed he'd been assigned. He'd seen Colonel O'Neill enter the room just has he had had another humiliating attack and had run for the relief of the toilet. Seeing O'Neill talking to Major Palmer had simply taken the heart out of him, and he slumped on the bed waiting for the final ax to fall.

The last five days had been a disaster. He had initially thought it an opportunity to finally win over some of the most influential members of the SGC's archeology department. These scientists, perhaps more than any others on the base, had been adversely affected by the death of Dr. Jackson. The man had been the driving force and the glue for the entire department, and since his death, the team had more or less fallen apart, driven by private agendas and petty jealousies. Jonas had hoped he could work to bring them together.

That hope had been dispelled shortly after their arrival on P9Z-994 when, as a group, the five archeologists had agreed for the first and only time on the planet. Jonas was told in the nastiest way possible that his assistance was neither wanted nor needed. He had no credentials, no degree, and no business sticking his alien nose in where it was not wanted.

The five men had then turned their collective backs on the Kelownan, and acted as if he weren't there. Intellectually, Jonas understood that the five could not possibly have known that shunning was a powerful and feared punishment on Kelowna, but that didn't mitigate the effect it had on him.

He had enough pride not to beg. If they would ignore him, he would ignore them. He attempted to go about his business, doing the job he had been sent to do. But as the long days stretched out before him, he found his concentration was deteriorating, and the effort to just hold his head up under the perceived condemnation exhausting.

He considered approaching Major Palmer, but the man exuded such an air of contempt, that he was amazed that none of the other scientists seemed to notice it. The other members of SG14 were more open about wanting nothing to do with him, or any of the scientists. They just kept their distance, keeping their interactions with the archeology team polite and formal. In the midst of nine other men, Jonas was more alone that he had even been at the SGC. At least there some people would talk to him.

Sighing, Jonas eased himself down onto the infirmary bed. He felt a certain perverse satisfaction that almost the entire team had come down with the diarrhea that had plagued him from the outset. Not that anyone had noticed.

Trying to get comfortable, Jonas didn't notice Colonel O'Neill approach until the man spoke. "Jonas. So, how did it go?"

Startled, only long habit kept Jonas from flinching. Although his heart was hammering, he responded with a wan grin, "It all came out in the end, Colonel."

O'Neill's eyes widened at the feeble joke. "TMI, Jonas. Listen, we need to talk."

To delay the inevitable, Jonas asked, "TMI, sir?"

"Yeah, TMI. Too much information." The colonel would not be distracted, coming back to his point. "Jonas, you know why I seconded you to SG14, right?"

"Yes, sir. So I could continue the translations I started with our initial visit to the planet." Jonas replied promptly. He kept his gaze level. There was no point in trying to hide the fact that he had failed miserably on both trips to the planet. The colonel had been present at the first trip, and had no doubt heard from Major Palmer about the second.

For some reason, O'Neill seemed nonplussed by his answer. After a long pause, he said. "Right. So we're good?"

It was getting harder and harder for Jonas to follow the colonel's thought processes. His lower gut was roiling again, and he really wanted… needed… With a groan, he could wait no longer, and despite the breach of protocol and the personal humiliation, he ignored his commander. Grabbing his aching stomach, he bolted for the bathroom.


	12. Chapter 12

Dr. Janet Frasier glanced up at the movement across the room. Jonas was headed to the bathroom again. She saw Colonel O'Neill standing there watching the Kelownan with a somewhat bemused look on his face, so she made her way over to where he stood. "Colonel?"

The man spun to face her. "Doctor?"

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Uh, yeah. Jonas going to be okay?"

"Well, he's a little slower responding to the antiemetics but I see no real problem. I'm keeping him here for observation for the rest of the day."

"I, uh, wanted to have a talk with him today."

"I suggest you schedule it for this afternoon, sir. Unless you'd like me to have a chair set up for you in the bathroom?"

"No, this afternoon is fine. Uh, tell him I'll be back after lunch, okay?"

"All right, colonel." Nodding decisively the senior officer turned on his heel and left, collecting Teal'c at the doorway.

"Dr. Frasier, surely there is some stronger medication you can give me? My stomach feels as if it is being ripped apart. Maybe some morphine is indicated…"

Janet turned at Dr. Weisen's complaint, hiding her distaste for the man in a professionally cool exterior. He and Dr. Sparkman had been in a bizarre game of one upmanship since arriving, each claiming to be more sick than the other. She wished they'd take a cue from Jonas, or Sergeants Tyler and Ross, all of whom had settled in quietly and uncomplainingly.

"Doctor, unless you have a degree you haven't told me about, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me make the medical decisions. Now, according to the chart, you haven't had a movement in over three hours. Is that correct?"

"Yes, but I'm in a tremendous amount of pain."

"Lie still for a moment." Janet snapped on latex gloves, and began palpating the balding doctor's stomach. "Let me know if I hit a tender spot."

"It's all tender, Doctor."

Janet pursed her lips. Her examination had revealed no irregularities or hardness, and despite the doctor's complaint, he had not reacted to any of the pressure points that normally would have been a cause for concern. She looked at the man and tried to dredge up a little sympathy, but it was hard going. Weisen had a history of exaggerating medical conditions.

Unwilling to give any credence to the man's hypochondria, Janet said firmly, "All right, Doctor. I'm going to release you to your quarters. I want you to stop by supply and get a heating pad for the cramps. I'll give you some Tylenol, and I want you to drink plenty of fluids."

Weisen sputtered indignantly. "Release me? I'm a sick man! How can you call yourself a doctor if you turn sick people away? I want a second opinion!"

Biting her lip to keep from saying anything, Janet turned around to find Jonas watching the entire scene warily. Forcing a smile onto her face, she moved to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Jonas opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Weisen's snarl, "How dare you turn your back on me for that… that… jumped-up nobody!"

Janet spun back around, furious. Seeing the look on her face, Weisen subsided, pulling his blanket up to his chin in a protective motion. Adam Warner, who had heard the entire thing strode across the room, and put his not inconsiderable bulk between the archeologist and the outraged doctor. With a quiet command he said, "Tend to your patient, Doctor. I'll deal with Dr. Weisen."

Realizing where she was, Janet swallowed her anger and consciously relaxed her body posture. "Thank you, Dr. Warner."

The older physician reached up and pulled the privacy curtain between the two beds, winking just as his face disappeared. Janet turned back to Jonas. "Now, where were we?"

"I was telling you that I feel fine." Jonas replied with a crooked little grin.

"And I was telling you that I didn't buy that for a minute." Janet smiled, then seeing something in the Kelownan's look, continued softly, "Don't let Dr. Weisen's attitude bother you, Jonas. He's an angry embittered man whose career never reached the heights he expected."

Jonas cocked his head. "Dr. Weisen is very respected throughout the archeological community. His interpretation of the Babylonian ruins at Bani Salih are required reading at the university level. He's a tremendous asset to the stargate program."

Janet held Jonas' gaze and said quietly, "He's also a pigheaded idiot. I don't want you to give any credit to any insults he throws at you, all right?"

Jonas smiled, nodding. "All right."

Janet couldn't help but wonder if the insults really didn't affect the Kelownan. To all outward appearances, Jonas seemed to be one of those naturally sunny individuals who shrugged off adversity like water off a duck's back. If she hadn't known about his incessant drive to prove himself, she might have simply nodded and let the issue drop. Instead she held the man's eye for a bit, trying to see if there was a façade.

Jonas for his part, sat breathing through his mouth trying to keep the nausea at bay. Janet reflected that while she might not see his heart, she could certainly see his illness. "You feel fine? I don't think so. Hang on, I'll get you a second dose of loperamide,"

Janet smiled as she left the Kelownan's side. Crossing to the medical station, she noted a chart and pulled the medication. She turned to go back, but was stopped by Lt. Rush. "Doctor, Dr. Sparkman is reporting a tarry stool."

Janet raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Did you confirm it?"

"No, Ma'am. He flushed."

Janet sighed. "All right. Take this over to Jonas and make sure he takes it. Oh, and Lieutenant? Send an orderly down to the commissary. Get as much E-Lyte as you can. I don't want any dehydration on any of these patients."

"Yes, Ma'am." The nurse turned to her task, and Janet took a deep breath before heading to Lawrence Sparkman's bedside.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: No reviews, eh? Didn't like the last chapter, eh? Well try this one on for size!_

General George Hammond looked across the table at SG14's commander. "You mean to tell me that in five days they came up with nothing?"

"Not exactly, sir. They just couldn't agree on anything. Dr. Sparkman was convinced that there was a hidden chamber in the temple, but Dr. Kelly said Sparkman was misinterpreting the writing. Dr. March was convinced there was a hidden chamber, but just not in the temple. Dr. Forbes thought the temple was dedicated to music and dancing, and Dr. Weisen thought they were all just jealous because he was smarter than they were. It went like that all week, sir."

Hammond stamped down on his annoyance. "Well, what did Mr. Quinn have to say about it?"

"He didn't say much of anything, sir." Palmer shrugged. "He was kind of off doing his own thing, and he more or less ignored the rest of them."

"That doesn't sound like Jonas." Hammond frowned.

Major Palmer kept his expression neutral and didn't respond. The general realized the man didn't have any more to add. "Very well, Major. Your team is on stand down for the next 72 hours. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Hammond watched the marine leave, then picked up his telephone. Dialing an extension, he ordered Colonel O'Neill to report to his office. He didn't like Palmer's report. He'd thrown the SGC's best resources at P9Z-994, and they had utterly failed to produce any positive result.

Upon reflection, he should have known better than to put the five senior archeologists on the same site. The entire department had been seriously floundering since the ascension of Dr. Jackson. He had hoped the site would give the men an opportunity to set aside their egos and work together. Obviously, without Daniel Jackson's unique ability to draw the best from his people, they had simply ignored the greater good to put forward their own limited views.

The bigger letdown, in Hammond's eyes, was Jonas Quinn. The man had an amazing insight and an ability to extrapolate limited data into coherent theory. Hammond had heard, of course, about the confrontation between O'Neill and Carter, but he had believed… hoped… that Jonas would use the opportunity to take a leadership position in the archeology department.

To hear that the man had in essence ignored the chance was a disappointment to Hammond. His head came up at a soft rap on his door. "Come."

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Colonel. Have a seat." Hammond cocked his head at his second-in-command. "Jack, have you been to see Jonas Quinn?"

O'Neill's eyebrows climbed, but his response was mild. "For a few minutes. He's, uh, indisposed."

Hammond smiled a grim little smile. He was well aware of the medical situation. "Did he say anything about P9Z-994?"

"No, sir. I barely had a chance to say howdy before he ran for the can. Why? Is there a problem?"

"You tell me."

Jack's eyes went wary at the general's tone. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Major Palmer says that Jonas ignored the team to do his own thing. Do you know what that would be about?"

O'Neill frowned. "That doesn't sound like Jonas, sir."

"No, it doesn't. I understand you and Major Carter had a discussion concerning Mr. Quinn earlier this week."

Jack's face went from wary to totally expressionless. Hammond held up his hands in a calming motion. "Relax, Colonel. I have no intention in interfering. I just want to understand what is going on."

O'Neill nodded. "So do I, sir. I intend to find out. With your permission?"

The colonel stood up apparently ready to put his words into action. Hammond considered telling the man to go easy, but in the end, simply nodded, trusting Jack to know his own people.


	14. Chapter 14

When Colonel O'Neill was ordered to General Hammond's office, Teal'c headed back to the infirmary. He had not forgotten his promise to protect Jonas Quinn, and until the person responsible for the poisoned candy was found, Teal'c intended to keep that promise.

For the most part that had meant hounding the security officers in charge of the investigation. But now with the Kelownan back from his mission off-world, Teal'c intended to be a personal bodyguard until the around-the-clock security rotation could be re-instated.

Entering the infirmary, Teal'c found Jonas in bed staring somewhat dejectedly at the mug of tea he held in his hand. "Jonas Quinn."

"Hello Teal'c," Jonas smiled at the tall Jaffa.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Oh… no, not really." Grimacing, Jonas put the tea mug on a bedside table. "Doctor Frasier wants me to drink a lot to keep hydrated, but everything just seems to go right through me, you know?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Doctor Frasier would only recommend such a course if she believed it would be beneficial."

With a sigh, the Kelownan picked up the mug and took a swallow before returning it to the table. "Did you need something, Teal'c?"

Jonas had a look of polite attention. Teal'c was gaining experience in reading the Kelownan's moods, and he realized that the man really just wanted to rest, but would never admit it. "No, Jonas Quinn. I am here to guard you until a security rotation can be determined."

"Oh." A frown flickered across the Kelownan's face, and his hand unconsciously went to the healing scar on his throat. "You know, I've been thinking about that, and I've come to the conclusion that it probably wasn't what it seemed. Some of the guys have pulled some practical jokes, because I'm uh, new." Jonas was unable to hold Teal'c gaze as he said this, giving the Jaffa the impression that he was for some reason ashamed. "And I'll bet this was just another joke. Whoever did it probably just didn't realize how dangerous it was."

"Do you doubt Doctor Frasier's belief that the perpetrator intended to harm you?"

Jonas was quick to deny that. "No, I don't doubt Doctor Frasier at all. I'm just not convinced there was malicious intent."

Teal'c considered this for a moment, then said quietly, "It is difficult to accept that another might wish you dead."

Jonas shrugged, but before he could reply, he suddenly paled, and with a groan said, "Uh, I'll be back in a minute."

Teal'c watched as the man hurried to the nearby bathroom. No sooner had the Kelownan disappeared, than Colonel O'Neill came striding in. He stopped short when he found the Jaffa standing calmly at the foot of the now empty bed. "T, whatcha doing here?"

"Until a guard rotation can be re-instated, I intend to protect Jonas Quinn myself."

"Right. Good thinking. I'll get the guards set up today."

Teal'c inclined his head in agreement, then said, "Jonas Quinn does not believe whoever poisoned the candy had a malicious intent, O'Neill."

"What? Don't tell me, let me guess… he thinks that's we how celebrate Valentine's Day." O'Neill said with deadly sarcasm.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. He had grown to understand the concept of sarcasm, but he still was uncomfortable with any reply other than the simple truth. "I believe he feels it was a practical joke, and the perpetrator did not realize the danger."

O'Neill shook his head. "It was no joke, Teal'c. Frasier told General Hammond that you can't just get that kind of bee stuff off the internet. Somebody had to distill it to get it that strong. She said it would have taken a lab and a couple of weeks to do it. That's not something you do just to get a laugh."

"I will not cease my vigilance."

O'Neill nodded. "Well, maybe you should leave now, then, because I'm going to kill him."

Knowing full well that the colonel did not mean it literally, Teal'c nonetheless said, "If that is your intention, then I shall not leave. I do not take vows of protection lightly, O'Neill."

O'Neill rolled his eyes, then both men turned to watch the subject of their discussion return from the bathroom, looking pale and a bit shaky. As he climbed back into bed Jonas acknowledged O'Neill shortly. "Colonel."

"We're going to have that talk now, Jonas."

"Not just yet, Colonel." Dr. Frasier swept up, bearing a paper cup with a pale liquid. She handed the cup to the Kelownan with a curt command, "Drink."

Jonas wrinkled his nose but obediently downed the liquid. With a nod, Janet asked him, "How are you doing?"

"Better. That last, um… it wasn't quite so… violent," he replied, waving a vague hand toward the bathroom.

Dr Frasier nodded taking Jonas' wrist to check his pulse. "Well, your bloodwork shows you're slightly anemic. Not enough to worry about, but I'll want you to watch what you eat for a while. You're drinking your tea, right?"

Jonas reached over and picked up his mug, and with a smile took a swallow. When he went to set the mug down, Dr. Frasier shook her head. "No, Jonas, I want you to drink it all. And I'll have Lt. Rush get you more."

Teal'c watched as the Kelownan reluctantly emptied the mug. Dr. Frasier also watched then she put her stethoscope to use, quietly commanding him to breathe in and out. She moved the stethoscope to his abdomen and listened there for a few moments. Finally nodding, she stood back. "Alright, Jonas, you're doing a lot better. We'll see how the next few hours go, then we'll talk about releasing you."

Turning to Colonel O'Neill, the doctor said, "He's all yours, Colonel. But not too long, he needs to rest."

The petite doctor swept away. O'Neill watched her go, then took a look around the infirmary, noting Dr. Sparkman was the only patient left, sleeping several beds away. With a short nod, he reached up and pulled the privacy curtain to cut off the view of the archeologist, then turned to Teal'c, and said simply, "Teal'c."

Teal'c caught a flutter of apprehension on Jonas Quinn's face, and he considered ignoring O'Neill's implicit command. He realized however that the colonel was determined, and he acquiesced with a slight nod. "I shall see Major Webster about the guard rotation."

Teal'c turned to leave, then paused and turned back saying, "Jonas Quinn, if Colonel O'Neill does indeed kill you, rest assured that I will avenge you."

The Jaffa left the room smiling internally, knowing he had left behind two looks of astonishment.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack O'Neill stood staring at the door Teal'c had just exited through. He shook his head and turned back to the man in the bed.

Jonas was watching him warily. "You're going to kill me, sir?"

Jack frowned, looking around for a chair. "Yes, Jonas, I am."

Finding the chair he wanted, he turned it around and straddled it backward, his arms crossed on the high back. He regarded the Kelownan in the bed. For once the man wasn't smiling. He couldn't help himself. With a snort he asked, "What? This isn't a 'first' for you? You've had the trots before?"

A frown of confusion crossed Jonas' face. "The trots, sir?"

"Yeah. The trots. Montezuma's revenge. The flux. The downtown squirts," Jack clarified helpfully. Seeing the confusion deepen, he sighed. "Diarrhea, Jonas, diarrhea."

"Oh. Uh, no, sir. I've never really had any illness like this before. I don't um, get sick very often."

"So, where's the smile. It's just another first, right?"

"Ah." Jonas' nodded his understanding, but didn't crack a smile.

O'Neill sighed, not quite sure why he had tried to lighten the atmosphere. "All right, now, suppose you tell me exactly what happened on that planet?"

O'Neill watched as Jonas swallowed hard, then composed his face into that damned, 'I'm telling you everything, honestly' look. Jack felt his ire go up. It was the same kind of look that slimeball politician, Senator Kinsey, would display when he was on talk shows. He almost missed what the Kelownan was saying. "I was only able to translate about half of the pillars, sir."

"What?" The question came out harsher than he expected, and he was surprised to see Jonas actually flinch, although his mien did not change.

"I'm sorry, sir. I know I should have completed them all."

Jack stared nonplussed. He waited for more of an explanation, but Jonas just sat there. The look hadn't changed, and after a moment, Jack shook his head. "Major Palmer says you went off on your own and ignored the other archeologists. What was that about?"

Jonas seemed to deflate for a moment before he recovered. He continued to look Jack in the eye as he said calmly, "They didn't feel I had the appropriate credentials to assist them."

"What the hell does that mean? They were sent there to do a job, and so were you. Nobody said you had to be best friends, but when I send you out on a mission, I expect you to put your personal feelings aside and get the job done. You wasted five days, Jonas. Five days. And you've got nothing to show for it." Jack raged quietly.

"No, sir." Jonas stated firmly, still looking like he was running for damn office.

"What do you mean, 'no sir'?"

"Colonel, I was able to translate enough to know that there is definitely a weapon there. And I'm pretty sure I know where."

"What? Why the hell didn't you tell anyone? Dammit, Jonas, Palmer could have recovered it."

"I'm sorry, sir. I only translated the relevant passage this morning. I went to discuss it with the major, but by that time, everyone was so sick, he was just focused on getting us all back to the gate."

Jack sat back, frowning. He ran his hand through his hair. "All right. But that still doesn't explain why you weren't working with the others."

For once, the Kelownan seemed at a loss. He started to say something but then shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I won't let it happen again."

O'Neill's first thought was to let it ride, but some vague instinct told him not to let it drop. "Not good enough, Quinn. I want a full report. Now."

Again there was a flinch, telling Jack that whatever had gone on, he needed to know, to understand. Suddenly, Jonas' face lost the artificial 'good friends, buddy' appearance. "When we arrived on P9Z-994, while SG14 was securing the area, Dr. Kelly and Dr. Weisen told me that they had all agreed that I wasn't uh, fit to clean their boots, and that even if I had everyone else fooled, they knew the truth. That I killed Dr. Jackson out of jealousy."

He glanced away, no longer able to look O'Neill in the eye. "They said they were not going to allow me to, uh, weasel my way onto the archeology team. They said I had no background or training, and just because I was able to filch Dr. Jackson's journals didn't mean I knew what I was doing. Um… then they uh, shunned me."

"Shunned you?" Jack asked, fighting to keep his voice level.

"Uh, yes sir. All five of them. Dr. Kelly said I didn't exist, and they all turned their backs on me. They wouldn't look at me or talk to me."

The polite attention was back. Jack felt an irrational urge to shake the Kelownan. He took a few breaths to regain his composure, and asked, "Why didn't you tell Palmer?"

Jonas shrugged and said as if it was obvious, "Sir, given how they felt, they were within their rights to…"

"NO. Dammit, Jonas, no. They were not within their rights. They were assigned to work with you. With you. They were not assigned to pull this shunning crap. And what is that, anyway?"

The question was rhetorical, but before Jack could continue, Jonas responded. "Uh, on Kelowna, it's a judicial punishment for a certain class of crimes."

That brought Jack up short. He hadn't expected any reply, much less something that sounded like a classroom recitation. "What? What kind of 'crimes'?"

"Crimes of nonconformity. It's a serious punishment, colonel," Jonas said softly but then, as if he realized the implications, he continued hurriedly. "But, of course, I realize that Dr. Kelly and the others didn't mean it in the same way."

Jack held up his hand, "All right, first off, I don't want to hear you defending them. Okay? What they did was wrong. That's all there is to that. Secondly, the reason SG14 was there was to see to it that the job got done. You should have told Major Palmer…"

Jack paused as Jonas shook his head vehemently. "What?"

"Sir, the only logical option Major Palmer would have had would have been to send me home. I felt the translations were too important to let that happen."

Exasperated, Jack shook his head. "That wasn't your call to make. And believe me, that was not the only option the major had." At Jonas' questioning look, Jack sighed. "Jonas, if it had been me, I would have kicked all five of their sorry bigoted asses right back through the gate."

Jonas frowned, shaking his head. "Sir, that wouldn't have made any sense at all. Exchanging the work of five highly respected archeologists for one um, amateur would be foolish."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Hello? Did any one of those idiots come close to a correct translation?"

Jonas paused, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm sure they would have, given more time."

"What did I just tell you about defending them?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I know I screwed up. I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry and I won't let it happen again."

Suddenly Jack got a sense of overwhelming weariness from the Kelownan. Realizing if he stayed much longer, Frasier would skin him alive, he stood up suddenly. "I'm not going to say you didn't screw up, Jonas, because you did. Next time, talk to people when something like this happens. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Get some sleep. We'll talk later about going after this weapon of yours." Jack said gruffly

"Yes sir."

O'Neill stared for a moment at the Kelownan, then turned on his heel and walked out of the infirmary. He nodded to Teal'c who was standing guard in the hall, and continued on. He was halfway to General Hammond's office before he realized he had never asked Jonas about his comment to Carter. He slowed for a moment, then with an irritated shake of his head, continued on his way.


	16. Chapter 16

SSgt. Tanika Jenkins pulled herself up straight before entering the infirmary. Composing her face into professional blandness she stepped through the door. As she had been told, the Jaffa Teal'c was standing guard over the alien, who appeared to be sleeping.

"Sir, I've been ordered to relieve you." She didn't salute as the Jaffa had no official rank, but she did pull herself to strict attention.

The tall black Jaffa seemed to merely glance at her, but she felt as if she were being scrutinized under a microscope, and found only marginally acceptable. Teal'c moved directly in front of her and gazed at her with cold eyes. She maintained her composure staring eyes front, resisting the temptation to swallow hard. After a long moment, he spoke. "You will not leave his side."

"No sir, I will not."

The Jaffa continued to glare for another eternal minute, then with a curt nod left the room. Jenkins let out her breath in a gusting sigh and took up an alert, at-ease position. For the next three and a half-hours, her only job was to see to it that the alien in the bed stayed alive. Not a particularly appealing mission, but one she fully intended to complete successfully.


	17. The Bully

_A/N: Story alert! Sadly, Real Life is rearing it's ugly head, and soon I will not be able to post chapters. I see two solutions: One, I can stop posting until life settles down in a month or so, or two, I can start posting multiple chapters per day and get the story up quickly. I am opting for option number two, because I hate it when people leave a story hanging. Having so decided, my previous decision to not title my chapters was wrong. I know it is much harder to remember where you left off without a chapter heading. I am therefore going back and titling each chapter. I apologize for any inconvenience this might cause. And thank you all for reading!_

Dr. Elliot Kelly had been a bully all of his life. The fact that he stood only five foot four, and weighed only 130 pounds made no difference. He had the intellect and the will to rip any who opposed him to shreds. He used his tongue like a whip to flay tender souls. And he liked doing it.

He had been the instigator behind ostracizing the creepy alien Jonas Quinn on the planet. With a bully's sure instinct, he had known just what to do to torment the man. The others probably hadn't picked up on it, but Elliot had gained a sick satisfaction in watching the Kelownan's crumbling concentration over the five days.

As he stalked the corridors of the SGC, Kelly had dismissed the alien from his mind. He was focused on his next victim, Ronald Weisen. He intended to browbeat the older scientist into agreeing with his interpretation of the writings from P9Z-994. Once he had Weisen in line, he'd take on Forbes, then March. Left on his own, Sparkman would cave.

Elliot felt a strong satisfaction. By the end of the week, he intended to be the chair of the SGC's archeology department. He felt a vibration in his pocket, and he pulled out the pager and read the text message.

He frowned. General Hammond was summoning him to a meeting, no doubt to go over the findings from P9Z-994. He'd wanted to get things ordered to his satisfaction before having to present anything to the head of the program.

With an annoyed grunt, he headed for the general's office. He made his way up the metal staircase mentally reviewing what he wanted to say. He was a bit surprised when he found the conference room empty. He had assumed the others had been called also.

With a small predatory smile, he realized he was being given an opportunity to present his theories first. It was an opportunity he intended to make full use of. With growing confidence, he rapped on the general's door, walking in when he heard the command to enter.

Some of that confidence evaporated when he saw SG1's commander, Colonel O'Neill standing there. The man was practically vibrating with tension, and if Elliot hadn't known better, he could have sworn the colonel was barely restraining himself from striking out. Kelly swallowed hard, and looked nervously at General Hammond, who had a hard-eyed glare of his own. "You wanted to see me, General?"

"Have a seat, Doctor," The general's tone was icy. "Colonel, you are dismissed."

"Sir, I'd like to stay and…"

"I said, dismissed."

Elliot slunk to the chair in front of the general's desk, keeping a wary eye on the angry colonel as he left. Feeling a bit lost, he turned to the general, who said, "Doctor Kelly, I've received a disturbing report concerning your actions on P9Z-994."

Elliot's eyes widened, he felt like a kid called to the principal's office, and he didn't like the feeling. Pulling on all of his dignity, with a touch of arrogance he demanded, "Report? What kind of report?"

"Why don't you tell me what happened between you and Mr. Quinn?" Hammond's voice had gone soft, so that Elliot practically had to strain to hear.

With a superior smirk, Elliot responded, "Absolutely nothing, General. I hardly even spoke to the man."

"Are you saying you didn't refuse to work with him?"

"And why should I work with him? Jonas Quinn might think he's God's gift to the SGC, but he isn't. He has no background, no published works, no training…" Elliot trailed off, suddenly realizing his audience.

While he could easily intimidate his staff, and with time, browbeat his colleagues, General Hammond was another matter. Like most bullies, Elliot Kelly was a coward when faced with anyone stronger than he was. Hammond was a powerful presence, like Daniel Jackson had been, and Elliot never had the nerve to cross either man.

Hammond's eyes pierced Kelly like knives. "Mr. Quinn is a valued member of Stargate Command, Doctor. He was assigned to the mission for a reason. Your actions in undermining his position raise serious doubts about your suitability for this facility."

Panicked, Elliot blustered, "My actions? It wasn't my idea! I just went along with it! General, it was all Weisen's idea, not mine!"

"Doctor Kelly, I am not unaware of your antagonistic attitude, and frankly, I don't believe you. In the past, Doctor Jackson was here to monitor and control the worst of your indiscretions. He believed your contributions were worth the disruption and discord that follows in your path. I do not share that belief." Hammond raised his hand to signal someone behind Elliot. "Sergeant? Please escort Dr. Kelly to his car. Doctor, you're fired. We'll have someone clear out your desk for you."


	18. Judo Class

_A/N: Sadly, I can't figure out how to change the titles on the previous chapters, so it will only be the remaining chapters that have titles. Sorry kids!_

Major John Griff sighed heavily, shaking his head. He glanced over at Teal'c, saying, "I wouldn't even trust these people in a training mission to the alpha site."

"Nor I, Major. Yet these are the recruits we must prepare. You know as well as anyone that even scientists must be able to defend themselves when they go through the gate."

Griff nodded. Even after a couple of years, he still sorely felt his failure to protect a particularly nerdy archeologist named Robert Rothman while on the original Goa'uld home world. It was Rothman's death that had resulted in the more stringent training of any non-combatant personnel assigned to off-world missions.

As he and Teal'c watched the current batch of hopelessly awkward science geeks attempting to perform the simplest of judo throws, Griff was glad to have the tall warrior's help. For all the man's talk of the harshness of Jaffa training, he was remarkably patient in working with people who, despite their big brains, for the most part couldn't walk more than a few steps without tripping themselves up.

Of course, there was the intimidation factor as well. Griff on his best day couldn't put the fear of God into a man as quickly as Teal'c could with a single stony glance. That glance was currently fixed on Dr. Long, who despite outweighing Dr. Cho by at least fifty pounds, still could not manage to pull the man into a simple hip throw.

Though he made no overt sound, Griff sensed that the Jaffa was heaving a mental sigh. They'd been working with these people for well over a week and if anything, the collective doctors of archeology, botany, geology and biology were getting even more inept.

Teal'c walked over to the two men struggling on the mat, and once again started to walk them through the appropriate steps. Griff looked over the rest of the class, trying to figure out who to help next.

"John?"

Griff looked over his shoulder and felt a smile form. "Sam. Come to help the hopeless?"

The blonde major smiled. "Actually, I was hoping to borrow Teal'c for a few minutes."

"Well, as long as you promise it's only a few moments. I can't face the nerd nation on my own."

Carter laughed. "No, I just need to ask him something."

Griff raised an eyebrow. There was a worried look to the major, despite the laugh and easy manner. "Everything okay?"

Carter shook herself then nodded. "Yeah, John, everything's fine. I just need to talk to Teal'c."

With his own nod, Griff walked over to the mats and put a hand on Teal'c's shoulder. "Teal'c, I'll take over here. Sam wants a word with you."

The Jaffa glanced over at Carter, and with a gracious nod, walked away. Griff turned to the sweating scientists. "Okay, gentlemen, let's try this again…"


	19. Legitimate Concerns

Sam Carter waited outside of General Hammond's office, temporarily occupied by Colonel O'Neill while the general was at a conference in Washington DC. Through the conference room window, she could see Lt. Col. Medina talking earnestly to O'Neill.

While she waited, she went over in her mind what she wanted to say. There was a fine line between reporting legitimate concerns and tattling, and she wasn't confident that she wasn't about to step over that line. But the more she thought about the morning's encounter with Jonas Quinn, the more worried she got.

Medina came out of the office, a slightly disgruntled look on his face, and nodded curtly to the waiting major. "Carter."

"Sir." She watched as the man walked away, stiff-backed. Hoping SG3's commander had not pissed off Col. O'Neill, she stuck her head through the door. "Colonel, have you got a minute?"

"Depends. Are you going to talk crazy talk?" O'Neill asked sardonically.

Smiling slightly, Sam entered the office. "Crazy talk, sir?"

"Yes, Carter, crazy talk. I've been stuck in this office for over a month, and all I've heard is crazy talk."

"It's only been four days, sir."

"Well, it seems like a month," O'Neill made a face, gesturing Sam to a chair. "Medina thinks we should take down the memorial wall."

"Why?" Sam blurted out, feeling a strong pang of denial. The memorial wall was one of the corridors by the guest quarters. At the beginning of the Stargate program, Jack had hung up pictures of fallen comrades, SG team members. The tradition continued to this day, the wall steadily growing more crowded. It had only been a short time ago that she and her teammates had ceremoniously added Daniel Jackson's picture as the only member of SG1 to have fallen in the line of duty.

"He says four people have turned him down to replace Lieutenant Charles. He blames the wall. He says people think SG3 is jinxed."

Sam frowned. It was true that SG3 had more contributions to the memorial wall than any other SG team. "Sir, I don't think taking down the wall is the answer."

"That's what I told him," O'Neill said with little boy petulance. Shaking his head, he looked at his 2IC. "So, no crazy talk?"

"No, sir. No crazy talk."

"Thank you, Carter, I appreciate it."

Sam couldn't help but grin, but the grin faded when she recalled the purpose of her visit. "Sir, have you talked to Jonas lately?"

Jack's face shut down a bit as it always did when discussing the Kelownan. "I told you, Carter, I've been stuck here for about a thousand years. Why? Has he figured out where that weapon is yet?"

When Jonas had first returned from his off-world mission two weeks earlier, he had told the colonel that he knew where the mysterious weapons cache was. He said it was in a secret chamber at the base of an altar. What the Kelownan had yet to figure out was exactly which altar it was. Several forays back to the planet had revealed the place was 'crawling with altars' as Colonel O'Neill had put it, but the secret chamber had yet to be discovered.

"No, sir, he hasn't, and at this point, I don't think he's likely to."

"Oh, come on, Carter, he's got a better chance than any of the rest of those idiots."

"It's not that, sir." Sam shook her head. "Colonel, did you know he hasn't worked out with Teal'c in over a week?"

"What? Why the hell not?" O'Neill frowned.

"He's squirreled himself away in his quarters working on that translation. According to one of the SF's guarding him, he only comes out to get food. I never noticed because I've been working on the 302's weapons array."

"Well, at least he's getting food," the colonel said pointedly.

Sam understood what he was saying. Daniel was notorious for getting so caught up in a translation that he'd forget to eat or sleep. She said sadly, "Sir, Jonas is not Daniel. This just isn't like him. I went down to talk to him a while ago, and he barely seemed to know I was there. And he doesn't look good. He looks sick. Sir, you need to talk to him."

"Carter, do you see this pile?" The colonel indicated a two-inch thick stack of papers. "This is just what came in this morning."

Sam glanced at the stack. "Oh, come on, sir. You know you don't want to do paperwork. You're probably the only person that Jonas will listen to. He's convinced himself that if he doesn't find this weapon, you're going to kick him off of the team."

Sam held herself very still. She knew the colonel didn't take kindly to being pushed into things, but she had been taken aback by how exhausted and ill Jonas had looked. If it had been Daniel, all three of his teammates would have been there, checking up on him, making sure he rested, making sure he took care of himself.

She felt guilty at the 'out of sight, out of mind' attitude she had where Jonas was concerned. In fact, if she hadn't wanted his input on the naquadria-powered weapons she was working on, she wouldn't have gone to see him today.

Before coming to see O'Neill, she had stopped by to talk to Teal'c and discovered that he had not spoken to the Kelownan for several days either. He had been caught up in training a new batch of recruits.

"Well, if he's sick, send him to Frasier. Have him checked out."

Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes, sir. Thank you for taking the time to see me."

O'Neill managed to hold the hard-ass commander pose for a few seconds before his own shoulders slumped. "Aw, come on, Carter. Don't you think being stuck here with General Hammond partying in DC is torture enough? Jonas drives me nuts, you know that."

"Sir…" Sam was interrupted by a rap on the door.

O'Neill, looking relieved at the interruption called out, "Come."

Sam couldn't help the thrill of alarm that ran through her when Major Pamela Webster stepped into the room. The SGC's head of security was as tough a marine as Sam had ever met, but the woman looked scared to death.

O'Neill apparently saw the same thing. He had his game face on when he asked, "What's wrong, Major?"

Standing ramrod straight, eyes front, Webster replied, "Sir, the alien is missing."


	20. The Search

SSgt Tanika Jenkins led her squad through the lowest levels of Cheyenne Mountain. With curt movements of her hand, she directed her people to check various storage rooms and labs for the damned alien, Jonas Quinn.

She was angry and embarrassed that the man had managed to escape, even if it was not her fault. She'd been off duty when it had been discovered that the alien was not in his quarters. Like the rest of her squad, she was rousted from bed to assist in the search.

Her unit's reputation had been tarnished by the act of one stupid, soon-to-be-court-martialled corporal who had refused to report for sick call when struck by a virus that had been running rampant on the base for the last few weeks. Instead of informing his superiors of his illness, he had reported for guard duty outside of the alien's quarters. He failed miserably in that duty by spending half of his three-and-a-half-hour shift in the can, suffering from diarrhea.

When the man's shift replacement had found Quinn missing, the initial reaction had been that whoever had been responsible for the earlier poisoning incident had taken the Kelownan. But a review of the security tapes had shown the man simply walking away from his quarters. He had been tracked to this lower semi-abandoned area where the security cameras were fewer.

Jenkins shared her commanding officer's opinion that Quinn had his own agenda, and had simply been biding his time for an opportunity to act. She knew the higher ups seemed to think the alien was an asset to the program, but the simple fact was he was a traitor. If he betrayed his own world, there was no reason to believe he wouldn't betray Earth.

Her people had been scouring the lower levels of the base for several hours now with no luck, and her frustration was rising in step with her desperation. The longer the alien was a free agent, the more time he had to put in effect whatever devious plot he had in mind.

"Sergeant? Any luck?"

Jenkins turned and pulled herself to full attention at Major Carter's approach. "No, Ma'am. We've checked the entire level once, and we're going through it again. Don't worry, Ma'am, we'll find his hiding place."

The major frowned. "Sergeant, Jonas wouldn't hide from you. He's either lost or passed out or something. Your people need to be looking for places he could have fallen, not hiding places."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jenkins responded crisply.

The major could apparently see something in her face because she cocked her head and asked, "You don't believe me?"

"Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?"

"Go ahead, Sergeant, uh, Jenkins." Carter said, her eyes flicking to the nametag.

"Ma'am, the ali… Mr. Quinn chose the only moment he was unguarded to take off. I mean, for the last two weeks, he's never gone anywhere but his office, the commissary or his quarters. Why would he decide to come down here now, unless he was trying to give us the slip?"

The major shook her head worriedly. "I don't know. But I do know he's not intentionally hiding."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jenkins replied neutrally.

The major stared at her for a moment, then with an irritated gesture turned away. "Keep me informed, Sergeant."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Jenkins watched the major start to walk away, then stop, staring speculatively at an escape hatch. The woman's hand came up and lightly traced one of the dogs holding the hatch closed. She glanced back at the staff sergeant and said, "Sergeant, come with me."

Hiding her curiosity behind a professionally blank look, Jenkins followed the major down the corridor. There were several hatches on each level giving access to escape trunks that led to the surface. Jenkins had not seriously considered them because Quinn's security pass gave him access up to within eight floors of the surface. It hadn't seemed reasonable that the man would climb up twenty-nine levels if he didn't have to.

Apparently the major didn't agree, because she stopped at the next escape hatch, doing the same minute inspection of the mechanism. After a minute's examination, the woman shook her head and headed determinedly to the next hatch.

It was five minutes and three hatches later that Carter found what she was looking for. She reached out and touched a dog that even Jenkins could see the scraped paint on. The sergeant looked down and saw a few paint flakes on the concrete floor, a clear indication that the hatch had been recently opened.

Carter saw it too, and said quietly, as if to herself, "Oh, Jonas, what are you doing?"

Carter started undogging the door, and Jenkins reached to help her pull it open. Sticking her head in, Carter looked up the metal ladder, calling out, "Jonas? Are you in here?"

Jenkins listened hard but only heard the wind keening through the tube. She started to climb into the tunnel, but paused when Carter touched her arm. "Sergeant, it's too far to climb." She gestured to the markings on the wall. "This one only opens onto levels 23, 17, 11 and 5. We can take the elevator up, check for signs at the hatches."

Jenkins nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll get my squad."

Carter shook her head impatiently. "We don't need your squad, Sergeant. I've already told you, Jonas is not intentionally hiding."

The sergeant kept her own counsel on the subject, simply nodding and following the major. She surreptitiously checked her sidearm while the major's back was turned. Regardless of the major's belief, Jenkins was going to be prepared for the worst.

Entering the elevator, Carter swiped her security card, then after a hesitation, hit the button for the top floor. At the sergeant's curious look, she pursed her lips and keyed on her radio. "Sir, this is Carter."

Col. O'Neill's voice came through. "Find anything?"

"Yes, sir. Maybe. It looks like he may have gone out through escape trunk 23C. I'm headed up to the surface. Could you have Teal'c check the hatches on 5, 11, 17 and 23?"

"What the hell is he doing?"

"I'm not sure, sir. It might not even be him."

"All right. You head to the surface. Teal'c and I will check the hatches. Keep in touch."

"Yes sir." The major cut the connection. Jenkins hid her frown, wondering why the colonel would take a personal role in the search.

When the elevator arrived on the ground floor of the base, Carter turned away from the corridors that would lead to the outside, instead heading deeper into the maze of hallways and tunnels. Realizing her intent, Jenkins kept pace. After a few minutes, they came to another escape hatch, this one leading upwards above the upper levels of the base, coming out in the forest that covered the western slope of the mountain.

Sighing with resignation, Jenkins helped the major undog the hatch, and with her, started the two hundred-foot climb up the escape trunk. After a long wearying climb, Jenkins had a new respect for Major Carter, who was, after all, only Air Force. The way she had pressed on without wavering, the woman could have been a marine.

At the top, Carter heaved the heavy cover up, and the two women climbed out into the westering sun. They both paused to catch their breath, Major Carter looking downslope in the general direction of the egress of the other escape hatch. Jenkins could have taken more time to recover, but Carter set off down the mountainside at a fast pace.

The sergeant followed behind, wondering how the major knew which way to go. She found the forested slope with its gullies and rises confused her sense of direction, but Carter was making a beeline through the trees.

Jenkins was hard put to keep up the pace that Carter set. "Major, you need to slow down. It won't do us any good if you trip and break a leg."

The blonde officer threw Jenkins a hard look. "Catch up when you can, Sergeant."

Anger flared in Jenkins' mind. There wasn't the jet jockey born that could out hustle a marine. Her lips a thin line to keep back an angry retort, she hurried after the reckless major.

Almost to her surprise, she soon spotted the low concrete box that marked the upper end of an escape trunk. As they got closer, she could see the heavy lid was thrown back. Instinctively she pulled her gun, slowing as she took closer note of her surroundings.

Major Carter showed no such caution. She practically ran down the slope to the three-foot tall structure, moving around it. Jenkins heard her soft call clearly through the crisp mountain air. "Jonas?"

Her eyebrows climbed as Jenkins watched Carter crouch down on the far side of the concrete box. She moved quickly to cover the woman, sliding down to a position where she could see what was happening.

The alien was sitting propped up against the low concrete wall on the downslope side. Jenkins kept her gun trained on the man, listening as Carter tried to rouse him.

"Jonas, can you hear me? Come on, look at me."

The alien seemed to be in a daze, but looked up at the major when she tapped his cheek. "Sam?"

"Yeah. Jonas, what are you doing out here?"

Jenkins could see the confusion in the man's eyes as he looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "Uh… It's nice here. The sun is… warm."

Major Carter frowned, reaching out to place a hand on his forehead. "You came out here to get warm?"

"What? No… I… is there a zoo here?" Quinn asked hesitatingly.

"Okay, Jonas, we're going to get you down below," Carter said firmly. She glanced around at Jenkins and with a near-snarl barked, "Put the gun away, Jenkins. Even you should be able to see he's sick."

Embarrassed, the sergeant holstered her sidearm. "Sorry, Ma'am."

Shaking her head in disgust, Carter clicked on her radio. "Colonel, I've found him. We're going to need a Med-Evac team on the surface."

"What's his condition?"

"He's disoriented, sir. I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but he's definitely sick."

"Understood. Help's on the way."

"Thank you, sir." The major clicked off her radio, and turned back to the alien, who was staring off into space, an unfocused look to his eyes. "Jonas? Jonas, do you hurt anywhere?"

"Huh? Oh, Sam… uh… I should get back to that… translation." The alien sounded weak to Jenkins, and despite his words, he made no attempt to get up. He sat with his head lolling, hands lying loosely in his lap.

"Jonas, I need you to stay with me here. Do you hurt anywhere?"

The alien widened his eyes as if trying to wake up, but after a moment, the glazed look was back. "I'm hungry."

The feeble comment seemed to hearten the major, who smiled softly. "You're always hungry."

Surprisingly, Quinn seemed to focus on the major, frowning, "No, Sam, I mean I'm really hungry. I.. I just…"

After that brief flare of energy, the alien lost focus again, and sat with the uncomprehending look returning to his face. As she watched the interaction between the two teammates, Jenkins tried to hold on to her suspicions about the alien, but in the face of his obvious incapacitation, she found she couldn't.


	21. Report

General Hammond looked up at the rap on his door. "Come."

When Janet Frasier entered, he noted that she looked exhausted. Gesturing to the seat in front of his desk, he asked succinctly, "SG4?"

Sitting with a grateful sigh, Frasier looked the general in the eye. "Corporal Ennis is in critical condition, sir. The staff blast destroyed a good part of his intestines, and most of his liver. Frankly, sir, it's only a matter of time."

Hammond's jaw tightened. Losing good men never got any easier. Knowing it was expected of him, he nodded shortly. "What about Colonel Ibrahim?"

"Well, as was obvious, his leg is broken. Other than that, scrapes and bruises only. With Dr. Lesley's help, I was able to reduce the fracture and pin it. He'll be out of action for at least eight weeks. Sgt. Watts and Dr. DeMott came through without injury, although DeMott was badly shaken."

"She did a fine job helping to get her team home," Hammond commented. The petite scientist had practically carried the much larger and heavier team leader through the gate.

"Yes, but I suspect she's had her fill of gate travel. Don't be surprised if she resigns in the next few days, sir."

The general shook his head sadly. "She's had a run of bad luck, but she's been an asset to the program. I'll offer her a research position. No gate travel until she's ready."

Frasier shrugged, looking doubtful, but kept her peace. Hammond waited a moment, knowing there was another report that the doctor had to make. He could tell from the look on her face that she was reluctant to speak, but he didn't have the luxury of time, so he asked pointedly, "What about Mr. Quinn?"

Even with prompting, the doctor hesitated. "Sir… I think we have to consider sending him home."

"What, to Kelowna? That's not an option, Doctor," Hammond stated flatly.

"It may be the only way to save his life."

"Yes, just long enough for those people to hang him."

"Sir, couldn't we trade something? Force them to leave him alone?"

Hammond shook his head. The doctor didn't have the instinct for politics that he had. In his few dealings with the government of Kelowna, he knew that they would twist any arrangement to suit their needs. Sending Jonas back to those people would be tantamount to putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

He cocked his head at Frasier. "What about the food SG8 procured? I thought you said it would help."

"Yes sir, I thought it would, but he's still deteriorating." The doctor shook her head in bewilderment. "We just haven't been able to get a handle on it. There is something very wrong with his digestive system. He's literally starving to death despite anything he eats. I thought it was something in the Kelownan diet, but we've had him on the kaily cake for four days now, and I'm seeing no improvement."

Hammond frowned with distaste at the thought of the subsistence food that SG8 had successfully bartered with the Kelownan military for. He had tried a bit of it and had found it had all the taste and texture of styrofoam. That one taste had given him a whole new insight into Jonas Quinn and the world he had come from.

"Well, what about that specialist? Van Huisen?"

"I sent the records, but Dr. Van Huisen was unable to make a determination. Sir… if we could just move Jonas to the Academy hospital, or maybe Bethesda…"

"That's out of the question," Hammond responded curtly. He hated to shut Frasier down like that, but the truth of the matter was, his superiors at the Pentagon had refused his request to allow the Kelownan to be moved to any other facility. With true bureaucratic shortsightedness, they had decreed Jonas Quinn a security risk.

Hammond had his suspicions about that decree. It had not escaped his notice that Senator Kinsey was still sniffing around. It would be just like the man to engineer the order simply because of Quinn's association with SG1.

Doctor Frasier grew angry. "General, you're tying my hands here. If I can't move Jonas to another facility, at least let me bring Dr. Van Huisen here. It wouldn't be the first time we brought in an outside specialist…"

"Doctor, what makes you think this Van Huisen could do any better in person?"

The woman deflated before his eyes. "I don't know, sir. I don't know, but if we don't do something, he's not going to last much longer."

Feeling hopeless, Hammond made a vague gesture. "I'll authorize Van Huisen. In the meantime, do the best you can, Doctor."


	22. The Specialist

Carel Van Huisen felt his jaw drop… again. "You've got to be kidding me!"

The pretty blonde major driving the car grinned. "Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain, Doctor."

Van Huisen just shook his head as the woman drove the car into the tunnel leading into the mountain. At forty years old, he was old enough to remember the cold war, and to have heard of NORAD's famous command complex. He never thought he'd actually see it.

He took a deep breath to compose himself. The day had been very strange. As head of the Mayo Clinic's Gastroenterology Department, he was used to being consulted on difficult or odd cases. For instance, he'd studied records just yesterday that had him puzzled. A white male patient exhibiting symptoms of malabsorbtion syndrome, but without any of the supporting pathology. He'd sent a preliminary request for additional information, but then put the case out of his mind as he did his rounds.

Today, he had finished his daily rounds and appointments only to find himself confronted by the Air Force major currently clearing them through a security checkpoint. She had crisply informed him that his assistance was needed for a matter of national security.

He'd thought it was a joke at first, but the woman had a sheaf of official documentation that she waved under his nose. He was surprised to find his secretary had cleared his calendar, and the CEO of the hospital had approved a leave of absence for the duration.

He was filled with trepidation when the major had whipped out a series of non-disclosure forms. It didn't take long for him to start speculating on who the patient might be. He ruled out the president as the man was currently all over the television rallying support for his environmental agenda. He supposed it could be some military official or other, but then, why the secrecy?

He'd signed the papers and agreed to accompany Major Carter if for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity. He had followed along with her to the airport only to be astounded to find, instead of a commercial flight, he was traveling in a fighter jet. He had assumed the pretty officer was turning him over to whoever was flying, and had gotten yet another surprise when she had donned the flight helmet and pressure suit herself.

Now here he was on the doorstep of one of the most secure facilities in the world. The major parked the car and led the way. Van Huisen followed meekly along for a moment, then came to a halt. Carter took a few more steps before turning back to him. "Doctor?"

Van Huisen grinned, waving at the huge 30-ton blast door they were approaching. "This is amazing! I've seen this door in the movies. Does it actually close?"

Carter grinned. "Yes, sir, it does. We close it when we are in lockdown mode. It's designed to withstand a nuclear blast. And it keeps the flies out in the summer."

Van Huisen did a double take. The major had been all business, and the joke caught him offguard. After a moment he chuckled. The major gestured him forward, and they approached a bank of elevators. One elevator opened up as they reached it, and a small woman in a white labcoat stepped out.

"Janet. Just in time. This is Doctor Carel Van Huisen. Doctor Van Huisen, this is Doctor Janet Frasier, our Chief Medical Officer."

As Van Huisen extended his hand, his eyes narrowed. "Frasier. Where have I heard that name before?"

"Well, it was a sitcom in the nineties, but you probably recognize it from the report I sent you yesterday." The woman's handshake was firm and the smile warm.

"Ah! The malabsorbtion syndrome. Yes." Van Huisen nodded. "Is that the big mystery case?"

The two women shared a glance that Van Huisen could not interpret, then Dr. Frasier nodded. "Yes, Doctor. It looks like malabsorbtion, but I've been unable to find a cause."

The doctor was guided into the elevator as they spoke, and he noticed the major using a swipe card before pushing the button. He felt his stomach drop as the elevator fell through the mountain. After a six story drop, the door opened, and Van Huisen stepped out, looking around curiously. He grunted in slight disappointment. The corridors looked like any in a hundred different office buildings he had been in.

The Major gestured to the left, and Van Huisen followed her lead. Instead of the expected medical office, the major stopped at a door marked 'Security'. When she opened the door, and ushered him in, the similarity to any office building he had visited ended. The room was filled with uniformed military men, all looking hard-faced and suspicious. Major Carter left him to their mercy, while Dr. Frasier moved over to chat with the only female soldier in the room.

He was directed to a chair where a young man with a great number of ribbons on his chest asked him a series of very personal questions. His driver's license was inspected as if it was assumed to be fake, and the paperwork that Major Carter had him fill out was scrutinized. After a good half hour, the soldier gave him a badge, telling him not to lose it, and assigned two very tough looking soldiers to accompany him.

Feeling very much out of his depth, he left the room with the soldiers trailing him and Doctor Frasier chatting away about her background and training. When they entered the elevator, she noticed his sideways glance at the soldiers. "Don't worry, Doctor, they don't bite."

Van Huisen smiled ruefully. "You're sure?"

Frasier chuckled. "I'm sure. Keep in mind, I'm their personal physician. Any of them get out of line with me, the needles get dull."

Van Huisen noticed the young men made no indication that they heard the remark. They stood at what he assumed was parade rest. "I'll take your word for it. My name's Carel, by the way."

The woman's smile bloomed. "Call me Janet."

"Okay, Janet, just who is this patient of yours? I have to assume he's not just your average soldier."

"Why do you say that?" Janet asked coyly.

Van Huisen held up his hand. "Because of the raging writer's cramp signing all of those non-disclosure agreements. That, and the fact that everytime I asked your Major Carter a question, she answered, 'That's classified.'"

Frasier smiled. "Well, Carel, I have an amazing story to tell you."


	23. Nursing

Lt. Ophelia Ortiz made her way to the infirmary, nodding to people she knew in the hallways. It was always tough to come back to work after a weekend off, and already she had heard from a friend manning one of the security checkpoints that SG4 had come home with injuries.

She entered the ward, and sighed with relief. Only Colonel Ibrahim was taking up a bed, and she could already see that his color was good. She glanced at the bed occupied by Jonas Quinn, and wasn't surprised to find Teal'c standing guard at the foot of the bed. It was obvious the Jaffa would not have to stand that duty much longer. In just the two days that Ortiz had been off, the alien had gotten paler and more gaunt.

She saw her friend Lt. Rush at the nurse's station, and she made her way over smiling. "Hey, Candy."

Lt. Rush looked up. "Hi, Fee. How was the weekend?"

"Great. I got a lot done around the house. I see Colonel Ibrahim has checked in."

Rush nodded a subdued look on her face. "Yes. Broken leg. We lost Dan Ennis last night. Staff wound."

"Oh." Ortiz made no effort to hide her dismay. Like all of the SGC's medical staff, she took the loss personally. "Oh, God, wasn't he married?"

"Yes, with two little girls. I just wanted to cry."

Ortiz covered her friend's hand with her own, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Rush smiled, patting her friend's hand. "No, it's okay. He went quickly. He didn't suffer long."

The two women shared a look of sympathy. There was a fine line between personal involvement and professional detachment, and they both trod it very carefully. After a moment, Ortiz looked around. "Jonas doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"I know. Poor guy. Dr. Janet's at a loss. There's some hope, though. General Hammond let her bring in a specialist."

"Really?"

"Yes. Some guy from the Mayo. Wait 'til you see him, Fee. He's just your type. Tall, dark and handsome."

Ortiz speared her friend with a look. Turning to business, she said, "Okay, then what are we doing today?"


	24. The Examination

Janet Frasier watched Dr. Van Huisen carefully. It was always a risk to tell a person that there were aliens among us. Many would refuse to believe, regardless of the evidence. Some would totally freak out. Janet hoped that Carel Van Huisen would be one of the few who would take it in stride.

She watched as the man blinked several times, then swallowed hard. "You're serious?"

With a gentle smile, she responded, "Absolutely."

"But how can you expect me to know how to treat an alien? Does he even have a digestive system?"

Janet sighed. "Carel, I don't think you understand. Jonas is human, just like you and me. The fact that he grew up on a world several million light years doesn't change that fact."

Pressing a hand on his eyes, Van Huisen tried to come to grips. "So Egyptian gods came to Earth and kidnapped people to be their slaves."

"Yes."

"So this alien is of Egyptian descent."

"No. We think his people were likely Anglo-Saxon or Norse."

"Wait, I thought the Norse gods were the good guys…"

"Well, yes, they are, but we think the abduction of Jonas' people pre-dates the Asgard intervention."

"And the Asgard are little green men from Mars."

"No, they're gray, and from another galaxy."

The doctor stared at Janet for a long minute, chewing on his lower lip. "Where do the Vulcans fit into all of this?"

Janet kept a straight face. "They don't. Vulcans are fictional, but believe me, Jonas is very real, and in desperate need of your help."

"Well, I've reviewed the records and…"

"Not all of them, Doctor," Janet interrupted. She pulled a file from her desk. "What I sent you before was edited for obvious reasons. Now that you're here, you can see his full file."

"Doctor, how did you expect me to make an accurate diagnosis if you withheld information?" Van Huisen asked severely.

Janet sighed, and opened the file, pulling out a particular page. "These are Jonas' baseline values."

Van Huisen took the page and scanned it, his eyes widening. "Surely this can't be right!"

"Believe me, Carel, it's all correct. When Jonas first arrived here, we did the tests three times to be sure. He's human, but the centuries on another planet have changed his people substantially from what we would consider within the range of normality."

"Apparently," Van Huisen remarked dryly. "Okay, I can see why you wouldn't have sent me this. I would probably have asked why you were contacting me instead of the coroner."

Janet smiled. Van Huisen seemed to be accepting the situation. The two doctors spent the next hour going over Jonas Quinn's records. At the end, Carel shook his head. "This is definitely malabsorbtion. I don't understand it. You're sure these pancreatic values are correct?"

"As you can see, we've run the tests on a daily basis. His pancreas is working perfectly."

"Yes, I can see that it says that, but it makes no sense. Janet, his system is totally shutting down but his pancreas is just chugging along without showing any of the effects. There is something very wrong here."

"We were thinking it's environmental. Something missing in Earth's atmosphere that he needs."

"No, you're not listening to me. This has nothing to do with environment." Dr. Van Huisen grew quiet, staring at the reports. Janet watched as the man sat deep in thought. Suddenly, his head snapped up. "May I see the patient?"

"Of course, Doctor." Janet got up, hopeful that the man's demeanor meant that he was on to something. She led him out through the quiet ward. Her eyes flickered to Colonel Ibrahim as they passed his bed, taking in his color and relaxed breathing. When they reached the other end of the ward, she couldn't help her feeling of dismay. In just the few hours since she saw him last, Jonas seemed to have slipped further.

Nodding to Teal'c, she said, "Teal'c, this is Dr. Van Huisen. Doctor, this is Teal'c." She noticed Van Huisen's eyes stray to the golden tattoo on Teal'c's forehead, but for the moment, she ignored his curiosity. "This is Jonas Quinn. Jonas, this is the doctor I told you about."

The Kelownan made no acknowledgement, and in fact, Janet was unsure if he was even aware of their presence. Van Huisen moved up, lifting Jonas's wrist in a practiced move, checking the pulse. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Quinn."

Janet stood back and watched as the doctor ran through a very professional examination. After standard palpation of the abdomen, he asked Jonas to breathe out hard, but the Kelownan gave no indication of having heard. The doctor took it in stride, instead leaning close, and sniffing Jonas' shallow breath.

Twenty minutes later, Van Huisen straightened. "I want 200cc of Diagase."

Janet's eyebrows climbed. "Doctor, surely that is contraindicated! His enzyme levels are…"

"Doctor, this man's pancreas has stopped functioning, pure and simple. Now, either you allow me to treat him, or tell me to go home."

Janet frowned. "Carel, every test we have run has said his pancreas is working fine. If you inject him with Diagase, it will run wild."

Van Huisen stood staring at her. "Are you telling me to go home, Doctor?"

Janet stood, her heart beating hard in her chest. Dr. Van Huisen was at the top of his field, but Diagase was a very dangerous drug, only used in the worst cases of pancreatic collapse. She looked down at Jonas and took a deep breath, shaking her head. "We don't keep Diagase in stock. We'll have to go the Academy for it."

"Well, get it. In the meantime, I want to try some insulin."

"Yes, Doctor." Feeling like an intern again, Janet hurried to the medications station. Glancing around, she found Rush and Ortiz watching her from the nurse's station. "Fee, contact Dr. Hadley at the Academy. We're going to need a vial of Diagase. Tell him we're sending someone to pick it up. Candy, go get it." When the two nurses didn't jump, Janet barked, "Move, ladies!"


	25. An Explanation

Teal'c watched as the two doctors argued briefly over the treatment of Jonas Quinn. He had no experience in the matter, and so felt a cold helplessness. It was obvious to him that none of Doctor Frasier's treatments had worked, but this Dr. Van Huisen was unknown to him.

As he watched Dr. Frasier scurry away to get the drugs that the stranger had requested, Teal'c reminded himself that it would be unacceptable to kill this doctor should his treatment fail. In truth, Teal'c was unsure that any treatment could save his teammate.

It had been a blow when Dr. Frasier had told SG1that Jonas Quinn had likely been sick for some time prior to his collapse. When they went over the man's actions over the past month and a half, it was clear that things they had attributed to stress, or worse, mistaken because of erroneously comparing him to Daniel Jackson, were actually symptoms of the illness that was ravaging his body.

Major Carter in particular had been filled with remorse for what she saw as her neglect of their teammate. Neither he nor Colonel O'Neill had been able to dissuade her from her opinion. His own suspicious nature had caused him to ask if it was related to the poisoned candy, but the doctor had assured him that the anaphylactic attack could not have caused the illness.

Since Major Carter had discovered Jonas Quinn sitting quietly in the forest above the base, Teal'c had watched his friend deteriorate. Each day he saw a bit more of the intelligence leave the Kelownan's dulling eyes as he grew more and more passive, his body wasting away. All of Dr. Frasier's care had not turned the tide. Teal'c felt a wave of sadness looking at the man, knowing the end could not be long delayed.

As Dr. Frasier returned, he found Dr. Van Huisen staring at him, or more precisely, at his tattooed forehead. When caught staring, the doctor turned back to his patient. Supervising Dr. Frasier's injection of the medicine, he asked, "How long before the Diagase gets here?"

"Half hour, maybe forty minutes," Janet Frasier replied distractedly.

Van Huisen nodded his head. "Well, in the meantime, I'd like to talk to his friends. People he works with."

Janet raised her eyebrows, but Van Huisen was already headed around the bed, hand extended toward Teal'c. "Mr. Teal'c, is it? Do you fit the bill?"

Teal'c had long since learned the Earth custom of shaking hands, but he chose to ignore the hand, instead following his own custom, bowing slightly. "In both particulars."

The doctor recovered smoothly, performing his own bow. "Excellent. Is there somewhere we can talk? Janet, perhaps we could use your office?"

"Of course." Janet stood bemused, then seeing Teal'c's expression, said, "Go. I'll keep watch over Jonas."

Teal'c considered, then with a nod, followed the doctor to the office. Van Huisen led him into the office, saying, "Close the door behind you, please. Take a seat."

When they were both seated, the doctor smiled. "Okay, Mr. Teal'c, now, you're a friend of Jonas'? How long have you known him?"

"Since he first came to Stargate Command."

The doctor nodded then, after a pause, asked, "So you aren't from Kelowna?"

"No, I am not."

"Okay, because I saw that thing on your forehead and I thought maybe you were an alien too."

"I am from Chulak."

The doctor blinked. "Uh, is that in Africa?"

"It is a planet many light years from here."

The doctor stared for several seconds before continuing. "Okay. Um, all right. I can deal with that. Anyway, what can you tell me about Mr. Quinn's habits?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What does he eat? Where does he eat? How often does he eat? Does he do drugs? Smoke? Drink?"

"Jonas Quinn eats whatever is made available to him. At Doctor Frasier's insistence, he eats many small meals a day. He neither smokes, drinks, nor takes illicit drugs."

Van Huisen looked at him as if waiting for more but Teal'c had answered the question, and felt no need to elaborate. Eventually the doctor sighed. "Okay, let's break it down then. What do you mean, he eats what is made available to him?"

"Jonas Quinn is restricted to this base. All of his meals are provided by the commissary."

"Ah! Now we're getting somewhere! Does the same person deliver his meals every day?"

Teal'c's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "His meals are rarely delivered. He eats in the commissary as do I and most of the personnel on this base."

"Hmmm. Are there choices? Or is it a pre-planned meal?"

"There is a selection of entrees for each meal."

"Okay. Does he pick and choose, or does he stick with the same things?"

"When Jonas Quinn first arrived, he would only eat oatmeal, but Dr. Frasier convinced him to try other foods. Now he prefers to choose different foods at each meal."

"Yes, Dr. Frasier mentioned that. All right, let me ask you this: Does he keep snacks in his room? Candy, popcorn, things like that?"

"He will often take food to his quarters for later consumption, but he does not keep a supply."

"What about coffee? Does he have a coffeemaker in his quarters?"

"Caffeine affects him adversely. He does, however, drink an herbal tea prescribed by Dr. Frasier."

"Yes? Does he get that from the commissary, too?"

"No. He has a supply of teabags and a heating unit in his office."

"Bingo!" The doctor said under his breath. Looking Teal'c in the eye, he said, "Mr. Teal'c, can I trust you to keep something under your hat?"

"I am not wearing a hat."

"Ah… oh, excuse me. I mean can I tell you a secret? Something I don't want you to mention until we can check it out?"

"I have taken oaths of allegiance that I will not break. If this secret betrays my oaths, I will not keep it."

The doctor sighed. "Fine. Listen, I don't think your friend is sick per se. I think he's being poisoned."


	26. Feeling Better

_A/N: Sorry for the delay... ffnet wouldn't allow an upload all morning!_

Jonas Quinn stretched in bed, luxuriating in the peace and quiet. Though still stuck in the infirmary, he knew he was well on his way to getting better. He could sense it in the way his muscles moved to his command. While it was true he still tired easily, he could now move without feeling as if he was bound by hundred pound weights.

More importantly, the same hundred pound weights that had seemed to drag down his every thought were gone too. The last several weeks had been a complete nightmare for the Kelownan. His mind had more or less seized up on him, and the harder he'd tried, the worse things got. It was only when Dr. Van Huisen had come up with a treatment and he had 'woken' up that he realized just how bad it had been.

He had been dismayed to discover that his 'illness' had actually been a second murder attempt. Dr. Van Huisen, it turned out, had seen a similar case previously in which a woman had been accused of murdering her husband. A medical doctor herself, she had regularly infused his coffee with a drug intended to suppress an overactive pancreas. Dr. Van Huisen's testimony had been instrumental in convicting the woman. A simple test proved the teabags that Jonas kept in his office had been full of the drug in question.

It was frightening to realize that the person responsible had to be in the medical department, because the records of his test results had been tampered with. When Dr. Frasier had first explained the situation to him, Jonas had been hard put not to panic. He felt helpless and vulnerable lying in bed barely able to lift his head. Dr. Frasier had immediately reassured him that she would personally supervise his care, and as another precaution, only two of her most trusted nurses, Rush and Ortiz, would be allowed anywhere near him.

To his surprise, enforcement of these precautions was left to Teal'c, who stayed at his bedside twenty-four hours a day, telling him he would not leave until satisfied that Jonas was well enough to participate in his own defense. Jonas found the statement both comforting and terrifying. For several days, the idea of him participating in anything more than sleep seemed impossible.

Slowly, though, his condition improved. Once his thinking wasn't so sluggish, he reviewed some of his notes on the translations he had done, and, horrified at the errors, had made corrections and finally determined which altar to look for. He felt a flush of embarrassment that he was glad SG1 had headed to the planet this morning to see if they could find the altar in question.

In addition to Teal'c constantly hovering at the foot of his bed, Jonas had been shocked by Major Carter's twice-daily visits. The woman had been filled with remorse for some obscure reason that Jonas still hadn't quite understood. She seemed to consider herself somehow responsible for the poisoning, which made no sense whatsoever. To his shame, on a few occasions, he had faked sleep to avoid her.

Even Colonel O'Neill had visited on a couple of occasions asking how he felt. Mercifully, the visits had been short, neither man comfortable with the situation. Still, it had given Jonas a lot to think about.

He glanced at the marine who was filling in for Teal'c. Jonas tried not to feel relief that the tall Jaffa had finally given in and gone with the rest of SG1 to retrieve the weapons cache. He wondered for a moment if Dr. Jackson had ever felt the way he was feeling. He knew from the mission reports he studied that Daniel had spent time in the infirmary on occasion. He wondered if he had felt smothered by the attention from his teammates.

The thought raised a flush of guilt in the Kelownan. He had fought so hard to fit in, and now that he had proof that he did, at least to some degree, all he wanted was to be left alone for a while. Sighing, he set aside the notebook he had been working on and, laying back, closed his eyes.


	27. In The Dark Of Night

Lt. Fee Ortiz glanced up from her book at a soft sound. Through the glass of the observation window overlooking the private room, she watched a changing of the guard. Sgt. Jenkins had just replaced Cpl. Alsaleem. Fee checked the clock on the wall. 0230 hours. Sighing, she stretched her back. For the last ten days she and Candy Rush had been working twelve-hour shifts caring for Jonas Quinn.

While Ortiz appreciated the trust that Dr. Frasier had shown in allowing her to participate in Jonas' care, she wished the woman trusted at least one other nurse to keep the workload down. Looking over at the Kelownan sleeping peacefully, she reflected that it wasn't for much longer.

Once the specialist from the Mayo had discovered the doctored teabags, and an appropriate course of treatment had been decided on, Jonas had improved quickly. Dr. Frasier had said earlier in the evening that she thought she would release him to his quarters within the next day or so.

Ortiz felt a pang of regret. Her tour of duty was coming to a close, and she found she was truly going to miss working at the SGC. She'd made many friends, and the job itself was engrossing. And where else would she have the opportunity to participate in work so vital to the defense of the world?

She pursed her lips as she stared at the man sleeping in the bed. In the last several days, she had come to know him. He was a sweet guy. In other circumstances, she might even have fallen for him. As it was, it would never happen. She was leaving, and he would be dead.

It was a damned shame, but there was nothing for it. Her NID handlers had explained to her that an arrangement had been made with an official high in the Kelownan government: A supply of the mineral naquadria in exchange for the death of Jonas Quinn.

Ortiz went over a mental checklist in her mind. She had packed and notified the landlord and utility companies. She'd taken the cat she had adopted to the local ASPCA. She frowned slightly. She was going to miss Fluffbutt, but there was no telling where she'd be assigned next. Her car was loaded and parked for a quick getaway.

All that was left was to finish the job. She was grateful that the Jaffa, Teal'c, had gone with SG1 to recover the weapons cache. He was far too observant, and she had not even considered making her final move while he was on guard. She hoped that SG1 would find something useful. It would be a nice legacy for Jonas, in addition to the naquadria he would be exchanged for.

Getting up, she went down to the Kelownan's bed, smiling at Jenkins as she passed. Expertly, she checked his pulse, breathing and heart rate. It was a matter of pride to Ortiz that her hands were so gentle that he never so much as mumbled in his sleep.

She could, with those same hands, snap his neck, but given the circumstances, that was out of the question.

Instead she casually went to the medication station, and out of the view of the marine, pulled a syringe out of her pocket and placed it on a small tray.

She returned to Jonas' bedside and prepared to inject the lethal contents of her syringe into his arm. She hoped the touch of the cold alcohol swab would not wake him. It would be better if he simply died in his sleep.

She held the syringe up and pressed the plunger a touch to make sure there were no air bubbles trapped, never even thinking about the incongruity of the act. Her head snapped up at a distinctive click.


	28. Confrontation

SSgt. Tanika Jenkins watched as Lt. Ortiz checked Jonas Quinn's vitals. She had not seen the alien since she and Major Carter had found him sitting outside a concrete escape hatch on the western flank of Cheyenne Mountain. She knew from reports that the man was getting better, but still she had been shocked at how pale and thin he seemed.

She no longer felt Quinn was a threat to the base. While she and Carter had awaited the arrival of the Med-Evac team, she had gotten a good look at how the Major felt about the man. She had been surprised when the first to get to them had been Col. O'Neill and Teal'c, both of whom had shown a good deal of concern over the Kelownan.

A few days later, the entire base security team had attended a seminar run by SG1. A lot of things were made clear at that time concerning not just Jonas Quinn, but all of their alien allies. It had opened Jenkins' eyes.

When Major Webster had advised the team that Teal'c was giving them one more chance to guard the Kelownan, Jenkins had been the first to volunteer. The Jaffa had looked over the many volunteers, and had chosen Jenkins and five others. The rest he thanked and dismissed.

Jenkins was proud to have been chosen and felt a fierce determination not to fail in guarding, no, protecting Jonas Quinn. She watched the nurse move to a desk at the far side of the room. Within a minute, the nurse, Lt. Ortiz, was back with a tray.

Jenkins watched as the woman prepared to give the sleeping man an injection of some sort. The nurse's movements were so natural, that it took Jenkins a moment to realize something was wrong. She pulled her sidearm and snapped off the safety.

Ortiz looked up at the slight sound and her eyes went wide at the gun pointed at her. Jenkins ordered, "Step away, Lieutenant."

"What?"

"Step away from Mr. Quinn. Do it now." Despite the nurse's obvious shock at the sight of the gun, Jenkins never wavered. In her briefing with Teal'c, she had been told that the only one to administer medication was Dr. Frasier. Under no circumstances was anyone else to give Quinn so much as an aspirin.

"Tanny, what are you doing? This is just his medication. He has to have it every four hours," Lt. Ortiz said in bewilderment.

Jenkins found the use of her given name annoying. She practically snarled. "The only one to give medication is Dr. Frasier."

Understanding seemed to come into the nurse's eyes. "Oh, I see. Didn't you get the memo? Dr. Janet changed that. She was so exhausted from having to be here every four hours that Dr. Warner ordered her to go home and get a full night's sleep."

It was reasonable, but Jenkins refused to be persuaded. "All right, Lieutenant. You put the syringe down, and we will check for this memo."

The nurse nodded her agreement, and turned to put the syringe on the tray at the bedside. Jonas chose that moment to wake up, taking in the scene with widening eyes. He pushed himself up on his elbows, asking sleepily, "What's going on?"

Ortiz moved faster than Jenkins would have thought possible, grabbing the Kelownan around the neck, half dragging him from the bed, she held the syringe poised over his jugular vein. In a voice like ice, she ordered, "Put the gun down, Tanny."

Jenkins held her aim rock steady. "Not going to happen. Drop the syringe or I put a bullet between your eyes."

"Okay, you need to listen to me." Ortiz kept her grip on Jonas and the syringe. "We are at war. We need every advantage we can get in fighting the Goa'uld. Stargate Command hinders finding those advantages as much as it helps. The naquadria from Kelowna may be our best chance to build a weapon to protect this world and everyone on it, including you and me. But the people here just don't get that, and they insist on squandering the few pounds we have on defense shields and spaceships." Ortiz said the words with loathing. "The Kelownan government has agreed to give us more naquadria. All they ask for is the corpse of a traitor. One death in exchange for the lives of billions."

Jenkins curled her lip in disgust. If it hadn't had been for the earlier seminar, she might have fallen for Ortiz' line. It wouldn't have changed her duty, but she could have believed Quinn's life was worth less than a pile of rocks.

It also infuriated her that Ortiz would betray the SGC. This was the nurse who had been so caring several months earlier when Jenkins had snapped her forearm in a training exercise. It was hard to equate that smiling compassionate person with the monster in front of her.

"I will give you one more chance, Ortiz. Drop the syringe." Jenkins watched the woman for any indication of her intention.

Neither woman paid any attention to Jonas himself, who seemed almost too weak to do anything but lie passively in Ortiz' grip. It was hard to say who was more surprised by the Kelownan's sudden move, twisting out of the nurse's hold, falling out of the bed to the floor below.

For a split second, the two women froze, looking down at Quinn, struggling to get his feet under him, then Ortiz struck like a snake, slamming the syringe into the man's unprotected shoulder. Jenkins fired an instant too late, her shot taking the nurse through her down-turned head, slamming her back into the wall in a spray of blood.


	29. Return

Major Sam Carter wearily followed the F.R.E.D. through the gate back to Stargate Command. Even with Jonas' detailed description of the markings, it had taken a long time to find the Altar of Shu. It had finally been Col. O'Neill of all people, who had discovered the altar in question, claiming the marks on the side looked a lot like a pair of ugly oxfords he had had as a young man, hence the Altar of Shoe.

Having shaken her head at the man's whimsy, she had pushed the proper symbols, and just as Jonas had said, a compartment had opened revealing several artifacts, which were now tucked safely away in a metal crate being carried by the F.R.E.D.

Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't wait to get the artifacts to her lab. She already had a series of tests she wanted to try.

"Welcome back, SG1. I take it you were successful?" General Hammond asked, a serious look on his face.

Col. O'Neill replied, "Yes sir. Just had to find the right footwear and we were in business."

"Good," the general said distractedly. "Come to the debriefing room, people."

Sam felt her gut clench. There was something wrong. Worried, she followed behind Col. O'Neill whose tight shoulders betrayed his own concern. They barely made it to the briefing room before O'Neill blurted out, "Okay, General, what's wrong?"

Hammond heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "There was another attack on Mr. Quinn last night."

"Ah, Goddammit…"

"Sir! Is he all right?"

Hammond made calming motions with his hands. "Easy, people. Dr. Frasier tells me he will recover."

"What happened?" Teal'c asked, his voice cold and hard.

"It was one of Frasier's nurses. Tried to inject him with an overdose of potassium. The SF on duty killed the nurse but not before she injected him with about half of the syringe."

"Damn it…" Sam felt a knot of anger.

Apparently, her anger was shared by the rest of the team. O'Neill's voice was sharp as he asked, "How the hell did the nurse get near him? I thought Frasier was only allowing Rush and Ortiz to be in the room with him."

"Lt. Ortiz was apparently a mole."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. Fee Ortiz was one of Janet's most trusted nurses. Sam had been very grateful to the woman for her tender and compassionate care of Daniel when he had been dying. It was like a blow to the stomach to find she was responsible for all of the misery that Jonas had been put through in the last months.

"My God. Do we know who she was working for, sir?"

"Not yet, but I have no doubt the trail will lead back to the NID. Probably a rogue unit, like the one run by Col. Simmons."

"So the potato stuff didn't work?" O'Neill asked.

General Hammond permitted himself a small grim smile. "No. Apparently, the dose was large enough to cause cardiac arrest. Dr Frasier said if it had been just about anyone else on the base, except possibly Teal'c, it would have been a fatal dose. Mr. Quinn's metabolism is just different enough that the effects were quite different."

Sam felt her eyebrows rise at the bemused expression on the General's face. "What kind of effects, sir?"

Cocking his head with a slight frown, the general paused to consider his words. Finally he said, "Think of the Energizer Bunny on speed."


	30. Epilogue

_A/N: Last Chapter! Woo Hoo! Thanks everybody for reading!_

Jonas Quinn strode down the halls of Stargate Command reveling in the return of his normal good health. While he was still a good twenty pounds underweight, his recovery from the attempts on his life had been quick.

He had been bewildered by the ferocity of Lt. Ortiz' attack as he had come to think of her as a friend. Equally hard to take was the idea that the government of Kelowna was actively seeking his death. While he had no doubt that returning to his home would result in a trial and probable execution, he was disconcerted by the thought that they would attempt to reach him on Earth.

He put Kelowna out of his mind as he reached the security ready room. Taking a deep breath, he entered. He stopped in his tracks as several heads swiveled to pin him with stares. Determined not to be intimidated by the blank stares, he smiled to hide his nervousness. "Um, hello. Is Sergeant Jenkins available?"

The Lieutenant he addressed raised his eyebrows speculatively then called over his shoulder. "Jenkins! Front and center!"

From the ranks of lockers at the back of the room, a voice called out, "Coming, sir!"

The woman he remembered from that night in the infirmary stepped out, looking a lot smaller and less fierce than Jonas remembered. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Kelownan standing there. Jonas felt suddenly nervous. "Sergeant, I was hoping I could have a word with you. Um, in private?"

Jenkins gazed at him with that Special Forces bland blank look that Jonas had found disconcerting from his first days at Stargate Command. After a moment, the woman asked the Lieutenant, "By your leave, sir?"

The lieutenant waved her away. "Ten minutes, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant marched out of the room, Jonas following meekly in her wake. Jenkins moved down the corridor to a small alcove then turned to Jonas, coming to stand at parade rest. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Jonas licked his lips nervously. He had no idea what this fierce warrior was thinking. He reached into the bag he was carrying, pulling out the golden box. "Um, I just uh, wanted to thank you for saving my life."

Without really looking at what he held, Jenkins began, "Sir, you don't have to thank me, I was just doing my j… Oh my God, is that Godiva?"

Worried that he had made a mistake, he said in a rush, "Yes. I was told that candy was an appropriate way to thank somebody. If I misunderstood, I'm sorry, I don't mean any offense…"

"My God, I didn't know they made boxes this big! Geez, Mr. Quinn, you didn't need to do that!"

Jonas blinked. The smile totally transformed the sergeant's face. She looked a lot more approachable, and with a small grin of relief, he asked, "So it's okay?"

The woman's head snapped up. "Hell yeah! I'll take chocolate any way I can get it! Let's open it and have a piece now."

Jonas grinned ruefully. "Actually, I've kind of sworn off chocolate."

Jenkins cringed slightly before nodding. "Okay. Hey, thank you. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

"You saved my life. It's the least I could do."

Jenkins shook her head. "That's not the way I heard it. I heard that shot she gave you didn't work."

"Well, not the way she expected it to," Jonas said with a small wistful sigh. Truth be told, he had really liked the feeling the potassium boost had given him, and had tried unsuccessfully to convince Dr. Frasier to give him more. "But we both know once she realized I wasn't dead, she would have done something else."

The sergeant nodded, accepting the simple truth of the statement. "Okay, I guess that's true. I'm glad you're okay, Mr. Quinn."

Touched, Jonas smiled. "Jonas. Please, my name is Jonas."

The Sergeant held out her hand. "You can call me Tanny."

"Okay, Tanny. I've got to get to a briefing and I suppose you'll want to go share that candy with your friends…"

The woman snorted, "This box ain't near big enough to share with those insensitive clods. No, I'll be keeping this all to myself."

Jonas laughed. "All right. Good. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay, Jonas. And thanks!"

"No, thank you!" Jonas turned with a wave and headed for the briefing. He grinned as he walked. As hard as the last few months had been, he finally was getting a sense of acceptance. It was good to feel as if he had a home. Now… if he could just get someone to take him to the zoo…

The End


End file.
